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THE 


OLD C LI E S T; 

OR, THE 


JOURNAL OF A FAMILY OF THE FRENCH PEOPLE, 

FROM THE 

pifroUi'nijian atiints to one ©ton 50ass. 




TEANSLATED FEOM THE FEENCIT, 

]3y anna T. SADLIEK. 

I 



NEW YORK : 


S 



T). & J. SADLIBK & CO., .Ol Barci.at Rt. 

Montreal : 075 Notre Dame Street. 


1875. 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S75, by 
D. & J, SADLIER & CO., 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington,'D. C. 



PREFACE TO THE FIRST AMElîICAN 
EDITION. 


The little Avork now for the first time 
published in tlie English language is 
something more than a story ; it is a 
series of historical sketches, in the form 
of a family chronicle, folloAving the 
course of French history from the early 
days of the first, or Merovingian dynasty, 
to the reign of Napoleon 1. 

The plan of the work, although sim- 
ple, is ingenious and artistic, shoAving 
both learning and ability on the part of 
the author. In the brief sketch given 
of each succeeding representative of the 
Duchaisne family, the manners and cus- 
toms of that particular age in Avhich he 


4 Prcfacj to the First American Edition. 


lived are skilfully introduced, as it were, 
in a bird’s-eye view, and the leading 
event or events of the respective periods 
graphically described and interwoven 
with the thread of the narrative. 

Such works as this, wi-itten, as it evi- 
dently is, by a devout Catholic, are cal- 
culated to benefit the youthful ]*eader 
by cultivating a taste for historical read- 
ing, and at the same time conveying to 
the mind a certain amount of accurate 
historical information. In this little work 
we have a photographic view, so to say, 
of the ages as they passed over the 
fair land of France, their chief charac- 
teristics made real and very striking to 
the youthful reader. AVe have the an- 
cient Gauls, the Frankish soldiers of 
Chailemagne, the monk in his cloister, 
the itinerant church-builder and his pious 
craft, tlie soldier of Crecy, the Trou- 
badour, the treasury-clei’k in the time 


Preface to the Fh'st American Edition. 5 


of Colbert, the renegade follower of 
Coligni and his pious and faithful Ca- 
tholic brother, the philosopher-banker of 
the eighteenth century, the brave soldier 
of the Grand Army, and still other re- 
presentative types of classes faithfully 
depicted by a graphic pen guided by 
the spirit of faith. It is, however, a 
very unpretending volume, and as such 
we hope it may find favor in the eyes 
of young and old. 


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COÎ^TEÎsTTS. 


Introduction, . . . , > 9 

Notes of Sergius, Monk of Elnon, 13 

I. — The Frankish Soldier — Fifth Century, . , , 14 

II. — ^Tho Conversion — Sixth Century, .... 21 

III. — The Monk — Seventh Century, .... 29 

IV. — The Soldier — Eighth Century', .... 37 

V. — The Laborer — Ninth Century, .... 44 

VI. — The Pilgrim — Tenth Century, .... 49 

VII. — The Church-Builder and the Troubadour — Eleventh 

Century, 58 

VIII. — The Crusader— Twelfth Centurj^, ... 70 

IX. — The Serf— Thirteeenth Century, .... 80 

X.— The Soldier of Crecy — Jacques Bonhomme — 

Fourteenth Century, 85 

XI. — The Citizen — Fifteenth Century, .... 100 

XII. — Catholic and Protestant — Sixteenth Century, . 113 

XIII. — The Treasury-Clerk — Seventeenth Century, . 1.34 

XIV. — Philosophy — Eighteenth Centurj', . . . 149 

XV. — The Pontoon-Man of Eble, 1G4 

¥ 



« h 



THE OLH OHEST. 


INTKODUOTION. 

18 — I was staying in the suburbs of a town 
in the north of France, where my neighbor was an 
old gardener in humble circumstances, whose name 
was Pierre Duchaisne. My window overlooked his 
little garden, which, symmetrically divided into 
three parts, was arranged in beds of hyacinths, 
tulips, pinks, roses, fuchsias, dahlias, and chrysan- 
themums. Some rare flowers were protected from 
the wind by bell-shaped glass covers, which at- 
tracted the heat of the sun. Peach-trees, vines, 
and a fig-tree covered the walls of the little house 
where the old man lived alone, on the modest in- 
come which his flowers brought him every week 
when he took them to the city. 

I took an interest in old Pierre’s labors, his se- 
clusion, and jDoverty ; for the good man’s appear- 
ance denoted that his labor alone kept him from 
indigence — indigence which was proud and re- 
signed, but bitter and real. 

No one helped him in his work ; being an old 
soldier, he had not married ; and old age had 

come, and he had not the strong arm of a son or 
9 


lO 


The Old Chest. 


the skilful hand of a gentle and pious daughter to 
serve him. I vaiuly sought to render him some of 
those services which hind people’s hearts to each 
other : the old man was proud — I should have said 
stoically proud, if he had not always shown himself 
a good and fervent Catholic. 

One day, however — it was a scorching morning 
in June — I did not see him wandering around his 
garden, wdth his Avatering-pot in his hand. I 
looked at the house ; the door and the shutters 
were closed, and the dog, lying in his corner, was 
howling mournfully. Feeling uneasy, I went over 
the hedge, and opened the inner door, Avhich was 
only on the la'tch, and found Pierre, half-dressed, 
lying on his bed, as though he were dead. I’ ran 
to him, and raised him. I saw that hæmorrhago 
of the lungs had reduced him to the last degree of 
weakness and exhaustion. He recognized me, and 
pressed my hand. I did all in my power for him, 
and soon the physician and the * parish-priest 
brought him, one the impotent remedies of his 
profession, and the other the poAverful consolations 
of his ministry. Old Pierre lived three days after 
this ; during that time I never left him, and he 
seemed touched by my readiness to console and 
serve him. 

About evening on the third day he called me, 
and said, in a broken voice, ‘‘I feel that I am 
going. . . . All is over Avith me, good neigh- 

bor. ... In less than tAvo hours from noAV, 
perhaps, I shall tell the good Cod of your kindness 
to me. I Avould Avish to leave you something ; but I 
have nothing. Yet, stay ; you sec that old chest ? 
... It contains some papers Avhich belonged to 


The Old Chest. 


II 


my father, and which had been left to him by his 
father. . . . It is an old family relic ; but a 

learned man, to whom I showed it once, told me 
that it was a curiosity. . . . Would you like 

to have it, my dear neighbor ? It is yours ; I give 
it to you. . . . Take also my poor dog, ^Tetu’ : 
she will not know where to go, poor animal. Good- 
by, my dear sir ; pray for me. . . . Who 

would have said that an old pioneer of General 
Eble would die in his bed ? . . .” 

He fell back on his pillow ; his eyes became 
fixed ; his hands groped about on the quilt ; . . . 

the priest came in just then, and held the crucifix 
before him. . . . Pierre kissed it fervently, 

and all was over. 

After having followed the humble hearse of the 
old soldier-gardener, I took possession of the legacy 
which his friendship had left me. I took home 
Tetu, who never stopped howling and snuf- 
fling the spade, the pruning-knife, the watering- 
pot, and all the implements which had been used 
by her poor master. Before opening the box I 
examined it. It was a curious chest, covered with 
carving, representing the celebrated women of the 
Bible, amid a foliage of flowers and fruits ; dust 
and moths were silently consuming that domestic 
monument of another age. I opened with some 
difficulty the lid, which was swollen by damp, and 
I took out an enormous bundle of papers and 
parchments — old Pierre’s legacy. 

On going home, I examined the manuscripts. 
The oldest of them were in a beautiful running 
hand of the Merovingian times, and dated from the 
Abbey of Elnon, now called Saint Amand. They 


12 


The Old Chest. 


had been written in his leisure moments by a pious 
monk, and continued by his descendants. This 
family tradition extended through several centuries 
down to our old soldier, who had himself, in an un- 
certain hand, traced his recollections of Moscow. 
In a word, I had before my eyes the complete his- 
tory of an humble family, wdio, though always ob- 
scure, had yet been connected with the important 
events of their several epochs, forming one phase of 
those great oceans of men, one of the voices of those 
immense multitudes, one of the wheels of those 
powerful levers, which change and overturn the 
face of the world. I have made some extracts from 
this family journal, continued during so many 
ages, and it is these pages which I now present to 
the reader. 



lOTES OF SERGIUS, 

MOKK OF ELKON. 


I WOÜLD here record what I have learned at my 
parents^ fireside of the history of my ancestors, and 
particularly of their conversion to the faith of 
Christ. I desire that these pages, transmitted to 
my descendants, may teach them fidelity to the 
Lord, who deigned to draw them from the bosom 
of barbarism and bring them within the pale of 
the Catholic Church. Our Lady and St. Benedict 
assist me in my work, and may those who read these 
pages pray for me, a miserable sinner ! 


13 



I. 

THE EEAKKISH SOLDIEK — FIFTH CEHTUEY. 

Clodioet, Chief or King of the Salian tribe, cher- 
ished the desire of penetrating into Gaul, where 
the Frankish tribes had already made Tarions 
settlements. Encamped on the hanks of the 
Ehine, in the thick and gloomy forests of Belgium, 
or among the swamps of Batayia, ho enquired with 
eager curiosity of that beautiful country where, 
over the fertile fields, extended like a network, the 
broad Eoman roads, connecting one with the other 
important towns, defended by large ramparts and 
crenelated towers. He was told of the riches con- 
tained in the houses of the wealthy Gauls, or Gallo- 
Eomans, who had brought the luxury and the gor- 
geous wealth of Italy to the banks of the Seine and 
Loire. These accounts, which caused explorers to 
be sent every year from beyond the Ehine, excited 
the covetousness of the long-haired King ; he trans- 
mitted it to his companions, and all formed the 
j)roject of advancing into Gaul, and avenging the 
injuries which they had received from the Eoman 
armies. They incited each other by bitter taunts, 
by fierce defiance, and thus whetted their swords 
and their hearts. The assembled army, under the 
command of Clodion, crossed the charcoal forest, 
near Tournay, and marched towards the city of 
Cambrai. 


14 


The Old Chest. 


15 


The peaceful inhabitants saw with terror this 
horde of barbarians, whoso very aspect vfas frightful. 
Of tall and robust stature, they fastened their 
tawny hair over their foreheads, and let it fall 
down their backs, like a horse’s tail. They had no 
other clothing ncr armor than a long linen garment, 
fitting close to their bodies ; from their girdle hung 
a large sword, and they held in their hand cither an 
axe, which from them wag call Frankish, or a pike 
curved like a fish-hook. All these men were pas- 
sionately fond of war; in the midst of battle, 
wounded, mutilated, they remained standing, ap- 
parently insensible to pain, and using their last 
strength to deal their enemy a final blow. 

Who can tell the fear, the inexpressible anguish 
of the faithful friends of Jesus Christ, when they 
saw that horde cf pagans descending, furious and 
implacable, on that country recently conquered to 
the dominion of the Good Shepherd ? The Chris- 
tians fled before them, and took refuge in gloomy 
caverns, there to assist at the holy mysteries. When 
the barbarians succeeded in finding any of them, 
they lashed them with whips or slew them 
with their swords. The gi’cater number, 
who had hidden in subterranean passages, 
perished there from suffocation. Hence there 
were no more priests, no more sacrifices : the traces 
of the divine worship everywhere disappeared. 
Some were cast down from the top of tottering- 
ruins, others were consumed by flames. Some, 
however, survived and persevered, strengthening 
each other by mutual exhortations, so as not to fail 
at the final moment. In overcoming nature in 
obedience to religion, it was sweet for them to think 


The OU Chest, 


i6 

that at least they should Ihul a grave in the bosom 
of their country. ‘‘Why should ve wish,*’ ciied 
they, “to survive our holy religion ? Is it not 
better for us to die with her ? ” Whoever from 
fear abandoned his faith was held as sacrilegious. 
He who had the courage to accomplish the sacrifice, 
was proclaimed a victor and a conqueror. Priests 
clad in their vestments were seen falling at the foot 
of the altar ; and, among the corpses scattered here 
and there on the ground, they were recognized by 
their sacerdotal ornaments. But this impious fury 
was not directed against the priests alone : the 
whole people were condemned to slaughter. The 
lav^ of God and that of humanity were at once vio- 
lated. . . . The blood spilled in the churches 

remained there stagnant. Ho one came to remove 
the dead and give them burial. Land of Gaul, 
thou didst thus expiate thy former ferocity.* 
Among these fierce pagans w^as a soldier, of ob- 
scure origin, but valiant and v,^orthy of the name of 
Frank, which means proud, brave, fierce. Gunther, 
this Avas his name, had taken an active part in all 
the contests between the Franks and the Roman 
legions; and, entering wdth his companions the 
toAvn of Cambray, ho expected to obtain a large 
booty. They advanced towards a chapel, dedi- 
cated to the Saviour, where, it v/as said, the piety 
of the Christians had collected precious vessels, 
tissues of silk and gold, destined to envelop the 
bodies of the saints. Gunther, being first, forced 
the door, which, coming oft the hinges, presented 
to the cruel eyes of the victors a pitiable spectacle. 


* This passage is to be found iii the Chronicle of Balderic. 


The Old Chest. 


17 

Women and old men, who filled the chapel, were 
prostrate on the stones, which they watered with 
their tears. The white-haired priest was at the 
altar, kneeling before the silver tabernacle, which 
contained the body and blood* of the Saviour. 
He was repeating aloud, in the name of that de- 
solate people, the Penitential Psalms. When 
Gunther entered, the people rose tumultuously, 
the terrified women screamed, the men tried to op- 
pose the young soldier with their feeble arms. 
Gunther raised the terrible axe, two women and an 
old man rolled, bloody corpses, at his feet ; he passed 
over their bodies, and walked towards the altar, at- 
tracted by the silver which glittered in the sunlight. 

The priest clasped the tabernacle, and sought to 
make for it a rampart of his body. . . . But all in 
vain. ... As a holocaust victim, his blood stained 
the altar-stone. When the work of blood and 
pillage was ended, Gunther looked around him. In 
the shade of a pillar he saw a young girl who had 
escaped the sword, and who, pale with fear, with 
closed eyes and hands clasped, seemed to await the 
fatal blow. Gunthei ran towards her, and, seizing 
her by her long fair hair, he dragged her to the 
middle of the chapel, crying out : 

This is my part of the booty ! ” 

Be it so,'*’ said the other soldiers. 

But the captive, throwing herself at his feet, 
said, in a tone of anguish : 

Would to God that I were amongst the dead, like 
my mother, my father, and my brother, whom thou 
hast just slain ! ” 

And she pointed with her hand to the corpses of 
those whom Gunther had struck down. 


The Old Chest. 


i8 

‘^Fear nothing, woman,” answered Gunther 
coldly, ‘Hhy fate shall be less harsh than thou 
thinkest. I will sell thee as servant to the wife 
of Clodion, our chief, and thou wilt spin her wool 
and flax.” 

So saying, he led his slave to a house whose 
owners he had driven away ; but, as they were 
about to enter, they were met by a woman, who 
was venerable at once from her old age, her 
white hair, and grave and austere face. 

This matron bravely advanced, and, pushing 
Gunther aside, she took in her arms the young 
captive, who clung to her like the ivy which 
twines its delicate stems around the tree which 
serves for its support. 

^‘Let go my slave ! ” cried Gunther. She be- 
longs to me by the right of war. I chose her 
as my part of the booty. Let her go, I tell 
thee ! I want to sell her to Ingonde, the wife 
of our king.” 

Thou wouldst sell her ! ”^ Teplied the old 
woman sorrowfully. ‘^Sell my Ida, the daughter 
of my daughter, the daughter of martyrs ! Sell 
a Christian maiden to a barbarous queen ! Well, 
man, I can buy her from thee. I will give thee 
whatever thou and thine have left me — some 
jewels, a farm on the banks of the Escaut, a herd 
of oxen — I will give all for my daughter’s freedom. 
Accept, Sicamber, accept my offer, and a mother’s 
blessing will fall on thee everywhere.” 

The Frankish soldier reflected. Wealth and 
property were offered to him, who had been hither- 
to poor, and possessing nothing but his soldier’s 
coat. lie did not hesitate about accepting it, but 


The Old Chest. 


19 


lie wished, at fche same time, to secure to himself 
irrevocably the possession of these goods. There- 
fore he answered coldly, I refuse, and I keep my 
slave.” 

What, then, wouldst thou have ? ” cried Ragonde 
tearfully. ‘^Wouldst thou have my freedom ? I 
will be thy slave — I will serve thee ; but let Ida be 
free.” 

That cannot be,” said Gunther. I wish thy 
daughter to stay with me, for I would marry her.” 

Thou ! — a soldier ! Is it possible ? Can I 
sanction the alliance of Christ with Belial ? No, 
never ! ” 

‘^ Choose ! If thou dost refuse, I will sell Ida to 
Clodion, my master ; I will take possession of thy 
goods, and thou thyself shalt be my slave. If thou 
dost accept my o2er, I will at once marry Ida 
according to the manner of the Franks, and 
I will be a faithful husband to her, for she pleases 
me.” 

Ragonde besought him in vain. She could obtain 
nothing, and her grandchild was forced to obey the 
will of the victor. Ida only obtained by her tears 
that the blessing of a priest should sanctify their 
marriage, in which the bride swore fidelity to her 
husband before Christ, and the bridegroom took 
as witness the idols dear to the Teutons. 

It was thus that Gunther, the Frankish soldier, 
planted in Gaul the foundation of his family, by 
taking a wife and capturing lands. 

After some years Ida gave birth to a son, and 
she herself, like Rachel of old at the birth of her 
dear Benjamin, was brought to the verge of the 
grave. In presence of her grandmother, Ragonde, 


20 


The Old Chest, 


she took her child in her arms, and said, in a 
dying voice, ‘^Lord God Almighty, my jirayers 
have not obtained that the husband whom thou 
didst choose for me has embraced thy law ; but 
here is the child whom I asked of thee with so many 
tears. I give him to thee, I consecrate him to 
thee. Lord, let him be a Christian, and let him 
not belie the sacred character which I am about to 
imprint on him by holy baptism.’’ 

And the poor mother poured the holy water on 
the forehead of the new-born child. This was the 
last act of her life. She died next day, mourned 
alike by her pagan husband and her Christian 
grandmother. 



IL 

THE COiq-VERSIOH — SIXTH CEHTUEY. 

GtONTRAH, the son of Ida and Gunther,, although 
having received at his birth the seal of baptism, 
was not brought up a Christian. His grandmother, 
Ragonde, had died before he had come to the age of 
reason, and he was educated by his father in the 
cruel and dissolute customs of paganism. Like all 
young men of the Frankish race, he rendered mili- 
tary service ; he fought in the war against the 
Burgundians and the Goths in Spain, and, like all 
his companions, he took part in the sacrilegious 
festivals and impure worship offered to the gods of 
Germany. He believed in fate, in magic, and 
sometimes, to render his gods favorable, he went to 
offer sacrifice on the hill of Blandin,* where 
Tentâtes had a celebrated temple. 0 the mercy 
of the Lord ! On that same hill where the devil 
was worshipped our blessed Father Saint Amand 
consecrated a monastery to the glory of Jesus Christ. 
That j>lace, once abominable, is henceforth sanctified. 
I, Sergius, who write these lines, have seen that 
house of prayer, and blessed the name of God. 

How, one day — Clovis, the illustrious king of the 
Franks, was then reigning — one day, as Gontran 
was going from Cambrai to his little farm, he saw 


* Near Gand. 
21 


22 


The Old Chest. 


on the road an old man, who, from his long tunic 
and the cross which hung on his breast, be recog- 
nized as a Christian priest. It was, in fact, the 
pious Berthold, the companion and brother of 
Vcdastus, Bishop of Arras and Cambrai. The 
priest went, as the Apostles did of old, from town 
to town, bringing the good tidings, and preaching, 
at the peril of his life, the lessons of his Divine 
Master. Perhaps Contran knew him ; it may be 
that he had. before met the ambassador of Jesus 
Christ. Hov/evor it was, at the sight of the holy 
old man the idolater’s blood boiled, and, urged by 
the spirit of murder, he ran forward, raised his 
axe, and dealt Berthold a blow on the forehead. He 
staggered back wounded, but, overcoming the pain, 
he wiped away the blood which was running down 
his pale face, and said to Contran in a calm and 
gentle voice : 

^'My son, what have I done to thee ? Why dost 
thou strike me ? ” 

‘"Because thou art the enemy of my gods, and 
consequently my enemy.” 

“ Thy enemy ! — I, my son ? Divine Coodness 
forbid ! Undeceive thyself. Eeceive my pardon ; 
and lienceforth remember that a soldier should not 
strike an old man.” 

So saying, Berthold went his way, although with 
difficulty. Contrail took another road, and walked 
on pensively. He afterwards confessed that, in 
going away from the old priest without throwing 
himself at his feet and asking his pardon, he re- 
sisted a holy voice which spoke in his soul— lie 
obeyed the ancient enemy, who incites to pride 
those whom humility alone could save. 


The Old Chest, 


23 


Two days after this, Gontran was riding along 
the banks of the Escaut, the muddy waters of 
which, swollen by heavy rains, rushed along like a 
torrent. On the other bank was a farm, where 
laborers were threshing wheat on the barn-yard 
floor. The horse, frightened by the noise of tlie 
flail, began to plunge, and, obeying neither bridle 
nor &pur, threw off his master, who rolled senseless 
into the water. When he came to life, he found 
himself lying on a bed of fleecy wool ; a man bend- 
ing over him was watching anxiously for his first 
breath and his first look. Gontran tried to rise. 
The man took him gently in his arms, and said to 
him kindly : 

“Well, my son, how is it with thee ?’’ 

The sound of his voice drew\ Gontran from his 
stupor. His eyes opened, and, 0 the goodness of 
the Lord ! the eyes of his soul were at the same time 
opened. He recognized the priest Berth old — 
•Berthold whose wet garments showed that he had 
saved the life of his would-be murderer at the risk 
of his own — Berthold whose forehead still bore the 
mark of Gontran’s axe. 

“ What ! it is thou ! ” said the soldier — “ thou !” 

He dared not say more, and he turned his face 
to the wall to hide his tears. 

It was indeed Berthold, who, through the mercy 
of the Lord, had saved the idolater as the water 
was about to swallow him up. The holy priest had 
been at the farm, where some of the laborers, still 
pagans, were preparing to receive the grace of 
baptism. He had come to instruct them, and 
from an upper room he had recognized Gontran, 
and had seen him disappear beneath the waves. 


24 


The Old Chest, 


Consulting only his charity, he plunged into the 
river and brought Gontran unconscious to the shore. 

For several days Contran was cared for by the 
people of the farm. He received their attentions 
in silence, always absorbed in thought. At length 
about the dawn of the fifth day he rose and went to 
Berthold’s room. The priest was kneeling, with 
hands raised to heaven ; he seemed as if imploring 
mercy of the Lord. When he heard Gontran’s 
steps behind him, he rose, held out his hand, and 
said gently : 

Welcome, my son. I was thinking of thee.^^ 

And I, priest, have not ceased to think of theo 
for several days. Thou hast saved my life — I who 
would have taken thine. .Thou didst that in the 
name of Christ, and I think that the God' v/ho 
makes thee so good is the true God. I want to 
believe in Christ tell me what I must do.'” 

What ! my ehild, my brother, thou wilt be 
ours ? I will lead thee as a new sheep to the fold 
of the good Shepherd.” 

Priest, if I believe what my grandmother told 
me in the early days of my childhood, I have al- 
ready received on my head the water which makes 
Christians ; she said my mother baptized me. There 
is at Cambrai a priest to whom Ragondo has of- 
ten related this.” 

‘^God had merciful designs on thee; he does 
not grant to all the same grace. He does reveal to 
all his holy law ! ” 

As ho said these words, Berthold shed tears of 
joy. Gontran was looking at the crucifix. 

“ This, then,” said he, ‘^is the God whom I must 
henceforth adore ? ” 


The Old Chest, 


25 


Yes, my dear son, it is the image of the God 
who created thee, who died to secure for thee eternal 
life ; this is the God of chaste, of meek and humble 
souls ; to serve him worthily, we must have the sim- 
plicity of a child and the courage of a martyr.’’ 

And what offerings does this God demand ? ” 

^^Thy heart, my son ; none other. But we shall 
continue this conversation later ; now, content thy- 
self with saying often, from the depth of thy soul : 
^True God, grant that I may know and love 
thee.’” 

This prayer, which Gontran had on his lips till 
the last moment of his life, was undoubtedly effica- 
cious ; for only a very few months had elapsed be- 
fore the idolater received the rite of baptism, ^ho 
Eucharistic bread, and the sacrament which gives 
light and strength to the Christian. Then the old 
man died in him, and on his ruins arose the new 
man, brought forth by grace and docile to its in- 
spirations. The new Christian was seen assiduous 
in the temples, faithful in prayer, visiting with 
fervent tears the tombs of the martyrs ; now the 
mysterious crypt where Saint Fiat received his 
death-blow from the hands of a Eoman lictor, 
again the fountain near which Saint Chrysole was 
beheaded ; or, following like a child the footsteps of 
Berthold, his father in the faith, he accompanied 
him in his apostolic wanderings through the coun- 
tries of the Atretates, of the Servians, and of the 
Menapians, to whom the faithful priest sought to 
bring the mild light of the Gospel. Not daring to 
aspire to the sacerdotal honors, Gontran shared the 
perilous life of the missionary, going from city to 
city, from town to town, seeking, in the name of 


26 


The Old Chest. 


his divine Master, a soul which he niiglit ransom 
from slavery, and bring forth to the liberty of the 
children of God. 

Lord, I am overwhelmed with gratitude and love, 
thinking of those saintly men whom thou hast 
sent to barbarians, to worshippers of the devil, in a 
word, to our ancestors, to bring them- to thee, and 
secure to them peace and salvation. What did 
they not suffer, these men of whom the world was 
not worthy ! Fatigue, toilsome and continual 
journeys through wild countries, hunger, thirst, the 
sacrifice of every good, the rending asunder of those 
ties dearest to the liuman heart, outrage, mockeiy, 
the distrust even of those whom they came to con- 
vert ; at length, and but too often, tortures and 
death ; such has been the lot of the ambassadors of 
the living God. 0 charity of a God which he has 
been pleased to communicate to his creatures ! 0 

charity of creatures who sought to make known to 
their brethren that God, so great and so good ! 
my soul is lost in wonder, and I can only repeat, 

God is admirable in his works ! God is admirable 
in his saints ! ” 

This life of danger and fatigue was that of 
Berthold, and Gontran shared it with faithful de- 
votion. For ten years he followed him, as loving 
as a son, as submissive as a slave, bound to the 
missionary’s lot by that indestructible chain which 
unites virtuous hearts, and which, broken on earth, 
will be more strongly renewed in heaven. Berthold 
was now very old ; but he would not stop, his rest 
was elsewhere ; and he repeated Avith Saint Paul, 

Woe to me if I convert not I ” 

Urged by his zeal, he went to preach to the in- 


The Old Chest. 


27 


habitants of a yillage situated on that hill which 
still bears the name of the ancient tribe of Cal- 
tians ; * but these unhappy idolaters refused to 
hear him and. chased, him from the yillage with 
stones. Gontran could, not defend, his master 
as he was unarmed. Berth old wished for no 
other sword than words, no other yiolence than 
that of persuasion. They both fled, followed by 
the curses of a senseless people. Gontran sup- 
ported the old man ; but, after they had gone about 
a mile, Berthold said to him : 

‘^'Let us stop, my son, my strength fails me.” 

He sat down under an oak, on the moss which the 
winter had ‘spared, and Gontran watched him in 
real alarm, for it seemed to him that Death had 
already set his seal on that pallid face and those 
trembling lips. 

Father,” said he, ^Hhou art suffering. . . .” 
little, my son: the flesh grows weak. . . . 
I thirst!” 

Gontran ran to a brook whose murmur was 
heard as it flowed through a thicket of holly, its 
water swollen by the Noyember rains. He fllled 
the gourd and brought it to Berthold. The latter 
sought to raise it to his lips ; but he stopped. 

My thirst will soon be quenched, . . .” said 

he. “ Gontran, my son, my race is run, I feel it. 

. . . Pray for me, and receiye my blessing for 

all thy loye and care. Mayest thou be blessed 
a thousand times ! Now let us pray for those poor 
idolaters ! ” So saying, he began the Lord’s Prayer, 
he repeated it seyeral times, mingling with it ar- 


* Near Gassel, in the Département du Nord. 


28 ^ 


The Old Chest. 


dent supplications for the pagans. . . . At length 
his voice ceased. . , . Gontran, who was sup- 
porting him, looked at him in terror, . . . 

felt his motionless pulse,his icy heart. . . . The 

missionary was no more, and, faithful to the charity 
which had guided his life, even in dying, he 
thought not of himself. 



III. 

THE MOHK — SEYEKTH CEHTUKY. 

Gontraît married a young Christian girl, and 
ended his days in peace and in works of piety. I, 
Sergius, am his grandson, and it was from himself 
that I learned the particulars of his conyersion. 
He was won to Jesus Christ by all-potent charity, 
and entire tribes of sayage pagans were conquered 
by the same arms. How, this whole country is un- 
der the blessed yoke which the Sayiour Jesus came 
to bring to the world ; the Heryian forests are 
peopled with pious tribes, who practise labor 
and prayer in common, according to the laws of 
God and of Saint Benedict. May the God of mercy 
be eyer blessed ! Heither Jupiter nor Tentâtes 
now haye altars in these regions, so long bowed 
down under the worship of false gods ; the spirits 
of eyil no longer haunt the cross-ways or the foun- 
tains. . . . Christ alone reigns. His is the 

empire ! And, if the descendants of the Gauls still 
kneel under the oak, it is to yenerate the blessed 
Mother of God, whom the shepherds place among 
the foliage. . . . If an altar be raised in wild 

and waste places, it has been sanctified by the blood 
of the great yictim of Calyary. . . . Fly, fly, ye 

powerful enemies, gods of hell, who ruled our 


30 


The Old Chest, 


ancestors, fly ^ The Lion of the tribe of Juda has 
conquered. 

I have not, like my fathers, any warlike adven- 
tures nor striking conversion to relate. 

Born within the fold of the Saviour Jesus, I was 
nourished at my mother’s knee with the milk of 
holy doctrine. I have been told that, when a little 
child, I was seized with an illness which threatened 
my life. ... I was going to die. . . . My 

mother, my father, my grandmother, stood round 
my cradle,, and watched for the signs of approach- 
ing death on my face. . . . The breath of this 

mortal life was trembling on my lips, when my 
mother threw herself on her knees before a crucifix, 
and cried : ^^Lord Jesus, who didst restore the son 
of a poor widow, save my child, and I give him to 
thee — I dedicate him to thy altar ! ” * 

My father and my grandmother confirmed this 
vow, and the Lord accepted it. The gates of heaven 
closed, a peaceful sleep came upon me, and knit 
again the bonds which bound me to earth !... 
I lived, and when I had attained the age of seven 
years (it was the year of our Lord 046) my parents 
brought me to the monastery of Elnon, not far 
from the city of Tournay. A thick forest covered 
the place which the servant of God had humbly 
solicited from the charity of King Dagobért ; on 
a spot which had been cleared with much difficulty 

* I even observe, in the rule of Saint Benedict, that they did 
not fear to consecrate children before they came to the age 
of reason ; the parents, without fear of tyrannizing over them, 
believed that they could dedicate themselves to God from their 
cradle. (Bossuet, “Sermons sur les Obligations de l’Etat reli- 
gieux.”) 


The Old Chest, 


31 


was erected a large house, built of wood and covered 
with thatch ; a bell, hung on the top of the build- 
ing, rang out the hours of prayer, and warned the 
religious, laborers, or shepherds afar off in the 
fields to raise their souls from earth and unite in 
spirit with their brethren prostrate before God. 
We were received at the door of the monastery by a 
monk, who saluted us and led us to the guest- 
chamber. After some moments' rest, we were con- 
ducted to the church, where the prior awaited us. 
My mother wept. I. remember her tears ! My 
father took my hand and led me to the altar, where 
he made me kneel before the prior, saying, 
Landoald, a free man, and Clothsinde, my wife, 
give and dedicate to God, Our Lady, and St. Bene- 
dict, through your hands, most reverend lord, our 
son, Sergius, the first-born of our marriage, that in 
this monastery of Elnon he may serve God in the 
religious profession, and, if it please his great 
mercy, in the sacerdotal ministry." 

The prior answered kindly. He cut off a lock of 
my hair. I took off my little coat, I was clad in a 
gown and a black cowl, and from that moment I 
was an oblate of the monastery of Elnon. 

The Lord, who had undoubtedly accepted my 
mother’s vow, gave me inclinations conformable to 
my destiny, and he granted to my mother a happy 
fruitfulness which repaid her for her sacrifice. 

Since my seventh year, I have never left this 
house, and I have become an unworthy religious of 
the Order of St. Benedict, and a still more un- 
worthy member of the sacerdotal body. I have 
nothing to relate of myself ; my life has passed 
tranquil and obscure, leaving no trace amongst 


32 


The Old Chest. 


men, nor in my own memory, where the days, each 
like the other, are lost in the uniform shades of the 
past. Through obedience I have taken part in the 
labors of my brethren, the courageous work of the 
laborers, the ceaseless toil of the writers, the apos- 
tolic labors of the missionaries, but I have always 
seen myself last of all in merit, in labor, and in 
virtue. Oar blessed father has ordained that to 
prayer, meditation, the singing of hymns and of 
jjsalms, we add the culture of letters and the labor 
of our hands. Everywhere the sons of St. Benedict 
till the waste and barren lands, fertilize the moors, 
dry up impure swamps, and gather around their 
poor monasteries the dwellings of mechanics and 
of laborers, to whom the cross serves as a rallying- 
point and a refuge. 

Who can fathom the designs of Providence ? 
Perhaps these villages, built in the shadow of the 
cross, may become populous towns, and Gaul, like 
Italy, shall see smiling plains surmounted by the 
towers and battlements of her wealthy cities. We, 
too, cultivate these fields, so long neglected or 
devastated by war ; harvests now wave where for- 
merly arose a thick forest, the haunt of brigands 
and of wild beasts ; cottages are hidden in the 
shade of our belfry, and we seek to give faith, 
light, and happiness to those who dwell near us. 
Other duties and other labors besides these occupy 
us ; the Church, our mother, has kept the deposit 
of ancient letters, about to perish in the storm 
which the barbarous E’orth let loose on the more 
favored and more brilliant countries of the South. 
She has kept, as a i)rudent parent keeps for her 
children, a fortune which she will one day restore 


The Old Chest. 


33 


to them ; and we, devoted to study and recollec- 
tion, preserve for those who shall come after us 
the beautiful inspirations of the Holy Fathers and 
the learning of antiquity. We transcribe books 
which have escaped the ravages of time and of the 
barbarians ; we also record, in our domestic annals, 
memorable facts in the lives of great servants of 
God, whose memory and example edify us. . . . 

The works of the saints should not be forgotten, 
and he who would not lose one of their bones 
should no more permit the memory of their virtues 
and of their miracles to perish amongst men. 

Some among us write the history of the events 
which are taking place in that world in which we 
no longer live : the intrigues of courts, the revolu- 
tions of kingdoms, and the succession to thrones, 
so often disputed. Others teach theology, morals, 
the elements of science, to the young scholastics ; 
and Tv^e all endeavor to keep burning the torch of 
human and divine knowledge, so roughly shaken 
in these days of wars and disasters. Others, in 
lino, more fortunate tlian laborers or men of 
learning, bear to the heathen the good tidings of sal- 
vation, cultivate that vast field in which reapers are 
filling ignorant and thirsty souls with the true 
science of truth and of life. God — may his name 
be blessed ! — has granted me the grace sometimes to 
follow in his apostolic pilgrimages our blessed father 
and founder, Amand, and to be the unworthy witness 
of the virtues of the servant of God. I followed him, 
especially, along the banks of the Escaut, amongst 
those fierce idolaters who inhabit Mount Blandin, 
and who, according to common opinion, owe their 
name to the Vandals. I will not relate the won- 


.34 


The Old Chest. 


dcrs of his preaching, nor the miracles with which 
it was honored, nor the sufferings AVhich he endured 
so joyfully in the name of his only master, Jesus 
Christ ; I will merely, for those who come after us, 
narrate the conversion which led to all the others, 
and whose recollection still lives in our country. I 
am old now, hut I love to recall the prodigies of 
mercy which I then witnessed. I repeat them to 
our young brethren, so that they may learn never 
to doubt of the goodness of the Lord. 

Bavo, Count of Hashania, w^as still plunged in 
the errors of paganism, and he inspired in his 
vassals, in his companions-in-arms, and in the 
chase, a profound terror, which was justified by 
the licentiousness of his morals and the harshness 
of his character. lie v/as married to a Christian 
lady, and he had *onc child, an innocent little 
creature, whoso j)raycr and purity were pleasing to 
the Most High. God clist an eye of mercy on the 
dwelling of Bavo, and he sent him the cross, which 
is always the messenger of his mercy. Bavo’s wife 
died, and the heart of the fierce profligate was 
broken. I saw him then, that pagan on whom was 
poured forth the generous balm of the cross ; he 
came, urged by a mysterious power, to throw him- 
self at the feet of Amand, wdiose name had gone 
forth through all the country, like the sweet scent 
of a ripe field which God has blessed. Amand 
dwelt in the monastery which he had founded and 
dedicated to the apostle Saint Peter, on Mount 
Blandin, and I was with him. I saw approaching 
a man of tall stature, of fierce and haughty 
countenance, contracted by overwhelming sorrow. 
He came hurriedly into the cell, and threw himself 


The Old Chest. 


35 


at tlie feet of our blessed father, saying, in a broken 
voice, have sinned, I have offended the great 
God of lieaven, by oppressing the weak and 
shedding innocent blood ! Holy pontiff, give mo 
wise counsel as to the salvation of my soul ! I 
wish to purify and correct my life. I place myself 
in your hands, man of God. Have |)ity on me ! 
Save me ! 

Our holy father, overwhelmed with joy, could 
answer only by his tears ; ho clasped Bavo in his 
arms, and wepfc on his neck, like the father of the 
prodigal son, the sacre<l i nage of the Father of 
Mercy. Ho spoke to him the v/ords of salvation 
and of life, wliich the pagan received respectfully; 
and from that day the man of iniquity died out, 
and gave place to the. new man, who draws from 
Jesus Christ the sap of life. The lion of battles 
became a mild and gentle lamb ; works of penance 
and of charity filled up his days ; ho wept for his 
own sins ; he dried the tears of his brethren, and 
soon, as the divine grace, when it overcomes a 
heart, always tends to a more perfect state, Bavo 
solicited the clerical tonsure, and submitted to 
regular discipline, under the Abbot Florbert, and 
no one could have recognized in the austere 
j)enitent the fiery Count d’Hasbanie. His won- 
derful penance astonished and converted even 
those whom the Avords of Amand could not win. 
Hoav can a religion be doubted which thus trans- 
forms hearts ? The rapacious and bloodthirsty 
profligate, whom all that barbarous people knew 
and feared, had become an humble recluse, shut 
up in a voluntary .prison ; he slept on the stones ; 
his food was coarse bread ; his body Avas covered 


3 ^ 


The Old Chest, 


with hair-cloth ; he wore fetters on his feet, like 
those with which the jailers of Rome shackled the 
feet of the confessors of the faith. For three ye^rs 
Bavo persevered in this solitude and this expiation; 
at the end of that time the angels called him to 
come and receive the victor’s crown. . . . He 

died, and barbarous tribes, whom his arms could 
never subdue, came to receive, at his glorious 
sepulchre, the eternal light of faith. . . . His 

memory is still dear to me ; . . . I prayed for 

him on earth, and I am confident that he is pray- 
ing for me in heaven. . . . 

!N'ow 1 am old. . . . My hand can no longer 

guide the plough ; my dimmed eyes no longer 
permit me to do the writer’s work ; my broken 
voice can no longer teach the evangelical truths to 
the people ; but young, active brethren, burning with 
a holy zeal, take the place of those who first under- 
took the work. . . . We bequeath to them the 

task which we have commenced. , . . They 

will clear these forests and these moors.* They 
will preserve the deposit of science and of noble 
traditions, and, above all, they will spread the 
apostolic fire over the earth, . . . Humble 

servants of (xod, faithful messengers of Providence, 
they will labor for the good of their brethren, 
without other hire than the eternal goods. May 
God be with them, and may he deign to grant to 
me, Sergius, a sinner, rest with the many holy 
souls who have already been admitted to the mar- 
riage-feast of the Lamb ! Amen. 


* The Benedictine monks were the clearors of Europe. (Grui- 
zot.) 



IV. 

THE SOLDIER — EIGHTH CEHTURT. 

I, Gherold, grandson of Landoald, conforming 
to the custom of my fathers, dictate to my nephew, 
Matfrid, religious in the Abbey of the Holy Se- 
pulchre (Saint-Sepulchre), a short account of what 
I have seen in my campaigns, under Charles Martel, 
Duke of the Franks, and under Charlemagne, 
King of the Franks and most pious Emperor of the 
West. 

Although living in the most remote extremity of 
Gaul, we have learned, nevertheless, that strength 
and power are no longer in the hands of the race of 
Clovis, the warlike king of our fathers. The 
mayors of the palace of Austrasia, the Pépins, have 
become the chiefs and leaders of the people. I 
have fought under their command, and I think 
that God, who desires the ' glory and salvation of 
the Franks, has opposed to these terrible enemies 
— the Friesland ers, the Saracens, the Saxons, and 
the inhabitants of Gascony — chiefs capable of lead- 
ing to battle the most valiant people that exist 
under heaven. 

Duke Charles, the son of Pepin and Alphëide, his 
second wife, j)ossessed the principality of the 

Gauls, and, without being a king, all the regal 
87 


38 


The Old Chest. 


j)ower was concentrated in liis hands. He governed 
the people at home and protected them abroad. 
We dwelt in peace, cultivating our little farm. I was 
then young, when strange news spread through the 
countries of the Parisis, of the Soissonnais, and the 
Oambresis. It was said* that hordes of barbarians, 
coming from the deserts of Africa and Asia, 
crossing the mountains of the Gascons, and through 
plains and gorges, had come to invade the lands of 
the Franks. It was also said that the King of 
Aquitaine, old Eu de, defeated by these pagans, had 
come to Duke Charles, begging him to save the 
whole country of the Franks, threatened by the 
disciples of Mohammed. The pagans, it was said, 
were going to cross the Loire, and their arms and 
their brutal avarice would not spare the sanctuary 
of the blessed Saint Martin. , . . These news 

were confirmed. Soon trumpets and clarions were 
heard sounding in the cities of Keustria and Aus- 
trasia, in the forests and the fields, and troops of 
warriors hastened towards the Loire. I was called 
upon, like other men of my age, to render military 
service. It was in the month of October, of the 
year 732, not far from the city of Poictiers, that 
the armies met ; and for seven days we waited, 
without bending the bow or drawing the sword. 
We, the soldiers of Duke Charles, saw passing be- 
fore our lines the Mussulman chiefs, mounted on 
light steeds, covered Avith long, white cloaks, 
armed with short sAvords or barbed arroAvs, Avhich 
they threw and caught again while their horses were 
galloping. These barbarians, Avith their black eyes 
and tawny, skins, looked at us in surprise, and 
pointed out to each other our long-haired chiefs 


The Old Chest, 


39 


with their glittering arms. On the seventh day the 
battle began. The Mussulmans sent a shower of 
arrows on our army, but the long line of the Franks 
never wavered under that fearful shock ; like a 
wall of iron, like a rampart of ice, the people of 
the North remained pressed one against the other, 
as though they were of marble. We all had but 
one heart, as we all had one faith. Twenty times 
did the pagans charge upon us, as rapid as the 
thunderbolt, as impetuous as the angry ocean ; 
twenty times did they advance to break against the 
wall of flesh and of steel which we opposed to them. 
At sunset the wall was shaken.- Duke Charles led 
us on to the combat, and our swords were ^Dlunged 
to the hilt in pagan blood. Night alone put an 
end to the battle. Duke Charles gave the signal 
to retreat, and, brandishing our swords in defiance, 
we passed the night on the plain. Next day the 
Arab tents were empty ; the pagans had fled, 
leaving behind their treasures, which fell into our 
hands. We took again our homeward way. 
Charles, having collected the spoils of the enemy, 
returned to France in the glory of his triumph. 

As for me, I tried to do my duty, incited, above 
all, by the great thought that I was fighting in the 
name of Christ, in the name of the Eoman Church, 
and to defend the Empire of the Cross against the 
impious votaries of Mohammed. In the name of the 
Lord I fought with the sword and the frameeC îind 
I venture to hope that at the great day the Just 
Judge will not forget his soldier and servant. 

I was in other wars with Duke Charles and his 


* A weapon of the ancient Franks. 


40 


The Old Chest. 


sons, Pepin and Karloman. I fought against the 
indomitable Frieslanders, entrenched in their isles 
and marshes ; against the Saxons, obstinate wor- 
shippers of the Teutonic gods ; I had the hap- 
piness of receiving the benediction of the most holy 
Pontiff, Boniface, sent to evangelize these people, 
by the order and under the protection of Pope 
Zachery and Duke Charles ; I saw Lord Pepin , 
elevated to the regal dignity, according to the 
words of the Sovereign Pontiff Zachery, who de- 
creed, He who possesses the regal power should 
also enjoy the honors of royalty”; and one day, 
going to the monastery of St. Sithin,* I saw there 
Cliilderic, the descendant of Merovæus, who, de- 
posed and shaven, had been placed among the 
monks. These are events which I have witnessed, 
anjl in which I have taken part, fighting under 
the command of the princes who now possess the 
sovereignty of the country of the Franks. 

Although old, I followed the army of the most 
mighty King Charles, who was marching against 
the Lombards and their king Desiderius. And this 
is what I heard related by a worthy priest. 

One of the first lords of the Frank kingdom, 
named Ogger, having incurred the wrath of the 
terrible Charles, had taken refuge with King Desi- 
derius. Hiving heard of the approach of the 
dreaded Charles, Desiderius and Ogger went up on 
a very high tower, whence they could see from all 
sides the arrival of the Frankish army. They at 
first perceived a warlike equipage more numerous 
than those of Darius and of Julius Cæsar. And * 
Desiderius asked of Ogger : 

* At St. Omer. 


The Old Chest. 


41 


Is not Charles with that great army ? ” 

And Ogger answered : ^^JSTot yet.'’ 

ISText came numbers of tribes assembled from 
all parts of the vast empire of the Franks. Desi- 
derius, after having seen them, said to Ogger : 

Surely Charles is triumphantly advancing 
amongst that multitude ? ” 

‘^No, not yet, not yet,” replied Ogger. 

Then Desiderius began to be disturbed, and said : 

What shall we do if ho comes accompanied by 
still more warriors than these ? ” 

‘^Thou shalt see how he will come,” answered 
Ogger ; ‘^but I know not what will become of us.” 

Whilst they thus discoursed, the King’s house- 
hold appeared, with his body-guards, who never 
knew rest. At this sight, Desiderius, bewildered, 
cried : 

Surely this is Charles ? ” 

And Ogger repeated : Kot yet, not yet.” 

Kext came the bishops, priests, and ecclesiastics 
of the royal chapel, with their retinue. Desiderius, 
desiring death, and no longer able to bear the light 
of day, murmured, sobbing : 

Let us descend and hide ourselves in the depths 
of the earth, that we may not see the face of so ter- 
rible an enemy.” 

The trembling Ogger, who knew the splendor and 
apparel of the incomparable Charles, having learned 
it by experience in better days, said then : 

“ When thou secst the grain bristle with fright 
in the fields, the Po and the Tesino become as dark 
as iron and overflow with their blackened waters 
the walls of the town, then thou mayest believe in 
the arrival of Charles.” 


42 


The Old Chest. 


He had not yet finished speaking when they 
began to see in the west like a dark cloud driven 
by the wind, which changed the light of day into 
funereal shades; then Charles ajiproaching gra- 
dually, the brightness of his arms brought to the 
men shut up in the town a day more gloomy than 
any night. 

Then in person came Charles, that man of 
iron, his head covered by an iron helmet, his arms 
enclosed in iron mail, his chest and shoulders of 
granite were lorotected by a coat of iron, he held in 
his left hand an iron spear, and his right v/as ahvays 
laid on the hilt of his invincible sword ; his boots, 
like those of his soldiers, were bound with iron, and 
his shield was all of iron. All who preceded hini, 
all v/ho marched beside him, all who followed, the 
wdiole army, had imitated their master as far as was 
in each one’s pov/er ; the fields and the plains were 
all of iron ; the iron bayonets refiected every ray of 
the sun. The ramparts shook with fright, the 
boldness of the young man was subdued, the wis- 
dom of the old men ]out to naught, and all the citi- 
zens cried with confused noise : 

Alas ! how much iron ! how much iron !” 

Ogger saw all this with one rapid glance, and 
said to Desiderius : 

‘•'Behold him whom thou hast been seekinof!” 
And so saying, he fell down almost lifeless. . . . 

Such was the master who commanded us — the 
chief whom we followed. May God grant long life 
to our most mighty emperor ! For him I have 
shed my blood ; for him my son died at Itonces- 
vaux, crushed by the rocks which the treacherous 
Gascons hurled on the army, led by Eoland, the 


Thé Old Chest. 


43 


captain ; but I do not regret either my blood nor 
even the life of my beloved son, since both have 
been given for the Church and the blessed kingdom 
of the Franks. 



V. 

THE LABOREE — HIHTH CEÎ^TURY 

My grandfather, of happy memory/ often re- 
peated an expression which he heard from the lips 
of the mighty Emperor Charlemagne, in whose 
army he had served. That prince, being one day 
in a seaport town, saw from afar ships remarkable 
for their structure and the ease of their movements. 
At this sight the pious Charles, leaning on a 
window-sill, remained long lost in thought, his face 
bedewed with tears. As none of his courtiers 
dared to question him, he himself explained to 
them the cause of his tears. ^^Know ye,” said 
he, ^^0 my faithful friends ! why I have wept so 
much ? I fear not that those people can harm me 
by their vain threats ; but it afflicts me much that, 
while I am living, they dare to insult this shore, 
and I am oppressed with sorrow because I foresee 
how many evils they will cause to my descendants 
and my subjects.” 

The words of that most wise emperor are ac- 
complished. 0 fatal days ! The ships which he 
saw were those of the pagan Northmen — ^those 
pirates who come every year, on their vessels as 
light as birds, from the far North, and follow 
the course of our rivers, burning, pillaging, and 


The Old Chest. 


45 


devastating all before them. I was young, and I 
bad been sent with a message from my father ^ to a 
farm situated not far from Haspres, in Cambresis, 
when I saw in the distance a prodigious crowd of 
people, and I heard the solemn chanting of the 
Psalms. I approached, and I saw monks, wearing 
the habit of Saint Benedict, walking barefoot, 
carrying on their shoulders a shrine covered with 
plates of gold. I was told that these religious were 
coming from the interior of Neu stria, from the 
Abbey of Jumieges, whence they had lied before 
the Norman pirates, and that they were coming to 
hide in their domain of Haspres the relics of their 
blessed founders. Saint Hugh and Saint Achard. It 
was pitiable to see Christian priests flying before 
the pagans. In all our churches the invocation 
was added to the Litany of the Saints, From the 
fury of the Northmen, 0 Lord, deliver us We 
were living peacefully on our little farm, my wife, 
my children, and I, Hugo, grandson of Gherold. 
The country was at peace, and we gathered without 
fear the fruits of our labor, when the tales of 
travellers and pilgrims informed us of the desola- 
tion in all the towns situated on the banks of 
rivers. The large and noble city of Anvers, seated 
on the banks of the Escaut, had just been burned 
by the fierce sea-kings ; the banks of the Somme 
vrere devastated ; provinces and towns depopulated ; 
the few inhabitants who survived fled in every 
direction, powerless and terror-stricken, or fell 
beneath the sword. The bodies of the saints, so 
long preserved in the monasteries which they had 
founded and edified by their examples, were brought 
into the enclosure of the cities. Danger was 


46 


The Old Chest. 


coining to us. On all sides were seen laborers 
whose houses and harvests had been given to the 
flames, churcli people whose eyes had been put out, 
widowed wives and orphaned children. And no 
remedy for these great evils ! These barbarians 
come more numerous than snow-flakes in winter ; 
they are liardy, rapacious, and indefatigable. Our 
lord, Baldwin, called the Bald,* tried to fortify bis 
towms by surrounding them with ditches and 
walls ; but, alas ! of what use are defences of stone 
if men’s hearts be feeble and cowardly ? f Like 
others, I have undergone the misfortunes of the 
times in which we live ; may it please God to spare 
my descendants ! 

It was at the close of the year 881 : the Lord had 
blessed our labor ; the barns and cellars were over- 
flowing with the crops, and our stalls were filled 
with cattle. I wasa’eturning from the Monastery 
of Elnon, the prior of which — a learned man — had 
given me some cordials for one of my servants, who 
was ill of a malignant fever, and I was going home- 
ward with a joyful heart, for I thought that my 
wife would bo waiting for me at the fireside, plying 
her distaff, and that my children would be glad at 
my return. 

The sun was setting and the horizon was red. 

. . . I thought it was the mists of an autumn 

day, reddened by the sun’s last rays, which thus 
colored the heavens ; but* soon a thick black smoke 
and sparks went up into the air, and hid the sun 

* Baldwin the Bald, second Count of Flanders. 

t According to the account of historians, the terrified 
people no longer dared to defend themselves against the 
Northmen. 


TJic Old Chest. 


47 


from my view. ... I hastened my steps : a 
little hill concealed my house from me ; I climbed 
it and went down the other side quicker than 
thought : . . . and I saw, ... 0 holy 

God ! I saw my house in flames, being reduced to 
a funeral pile, from which came forth fire and 
smoke ; the stables, cellars, barns, were burned. 
. . . 14ot a cry nor a voice came from 

amongst the ruins ; I darted forward, I called, 
hlo one answered me. ... 0 unhappy man that 
I was !... I ran all over the farm : . . . 

ruin and death every where ! . . . But, coming 

to a field which was watered by the Escald, I saw 
at a distance the light, narrow vessels which had 
brought the Northmen to our shore. . . . They 

were flying, the pagans, the thieves, the murderers. 
I was following them with my eyes and my impo- 
tent curses, when a feeble groan reached my ear. 

. . . I looked ; and in the grass on the bank 

I found my youngest child, my little Baldwin, who 
had been thrown there naked, and with a large 
wound on his hip. I took him in my arms, and he 
knew mo : 

0 father said he in a faint voice, wicked 
men came ; they shut mother and my brothers up in 
the stables, and burned them, and they hurt me 
very much.’’ . . . 

Great God 1 pardon me if I then cursed those 
who had brought so many misfortunes on my 
house ! Thy most sweet Son Jesus prayed for his 
anurderers, and I, miserable sinner, could only 
curse them ! But I now ask thee that the blood 
of those innocent victims, of my good wife 
and my precious slaughtered children, jnay 


^8 


The Old Chest. 


ascend to tliy throne and beg grace for these 
pagans ! 

I possessed nothing now but my land, stripped 
and bare. For help and protection I paid tribute 
of that, which I had held free from my ancestors, 
to the Abbey of Saint Amand, of which I became a 
vassal. . . . Liberty, family, fortune, I lost 

all in one day. From the fury of the I^orthman, 

0 Lord,, deliver us! 

However, religious are lenient masters ; they 
brought up my son Baldwin, and instructed him in 
human science ; and, under the command of the 
brave and holy Grozlin,*^' Abbot of Saint Amand, 

1 had the happiness of fighting the Northmen. 

. . . I saw them vanquished by the Lord Connt 

of Ilainaut, Eegnier, called Long-Heck, and I 
know that, on every side, the owners of the land 
are fortifying the towns and cities, training their 
vassals to arms, in order to resist the incursions of 
the pirates. Our priests and bishops are seeking 
to subject them to the laws of the Gospel ; the 
time is perhaps not far distant when these woes of 
our age will cease ; but who among the living 
can forget the churches profaned, the cities and 
villages burned, our women, our children dying in 
torture, and even our liberty sold, because the sea- 
kings consumed our patrimony, and trod our in- 
heritance under foot ? Thou hast willed it, 0 
Lord ! Blessed be thy will. 

* Gozlin, Abbot of Saint Amand, and afterwards Bishop of 
Paris. 



yi. 

THE PILGEIM — TEXTII CEXTUEY. 

I, Robeet, unworthy prior of the Abbey of Saint 
Amand, at the request of Baldwin, formerly 
brought up in this monastery, have written the ac- 
count of his life and the confession of his faults. 
He tliought that this account might serve to in- 
struct covetous and ambitious men, who immper 
the passions of princes and the great, to the damna- 
tion of their own souls. 

Baldwin, the^ son of one of our vassals, having 
early given evidence of a quick mind and a rare in- 
telligence, was, through the charity of the Abbot 
Gozlin, instructed in human science; but, what- 
ever care was taken to inculcate in him the spirit 
of piety and of humility, without which all science is 
vain, he testified from his youth the desire of rais- 
ing himself above his condition, and a great ardor 
in his projects of ambition and of wealth. One. day. 
Count Baldwin, commonly called the Bald, having 
come to visit our monastery, took notice of young 
Baldwin, who had had occasion to make himself 
agreeable to the prince by some slight service and 
by his lively sallies. The Count wished to attach 
him to his household, and asked him of us. We 
could not refuse, and Baldwin followed his lord with 
a heart full of joy and hoy>o. Hp was. employed 


50 


T J Le Old Chest. 


amongst the grooms of the hounds, and there again 
he pleased the Marquis, and by his intelligence, 
aptitude, and extraordinary zeal he gradually 
gained his whole confidence. 

It is well known what was then the condition of 
tlie Frankish kingdom. The lords, who were so 
submissive formerly under the powerful hand of 
Charlemagne, felt themselves strong in their turn 
under feeble kings ; and one of them — Eudes, 
Count of Paris — maintained himself for some 
years on the throne of France, notwithstanding 
the claims of the lawful heir, young Charles, son 
of King Charles the Bald. The prelates, however, 
and the whole priesthood, remembering their oath, 
given of old to the father of the most pious empe- 
ror, and by Avhich all the chiefs of the Franks 
pledged themselves to never recognize as king a 
man who was not of the race of Pepin ; and, faith- 
ful to that vow of their predecessors. Foulques, 
Archbishop of Rheims, and his suffragans, the 
metropolitans of Treves, Cologne, and Mayence, 
crowned the young Charles as king. The i^ower- 
fiil Prince of Flanders ranged himself under the 
command of his true sovereign, while Herbert, 
Count of Vermandois, one of the most poTverful 
lords in the kingdom, openly espoused the cause of 
the Count de Paris. Thence sprang a deadly 
hatred between Count Baldwin and the house of 
Vermandois ; and in the ’svar -which took place 
between the partisans of King Charles and those 
of King Eudes, the brother of the Prince of Flan- 
ders, Raoul dê Cambrai, surnamed on account of 
his bravery Taille-fer (Cut-iron), perished by the 
hand of Herbert of Vermandois. This -was a great 


The Old Chest. 


51 


affliction for Count Baldwin, who loved this bro- 
ther above all creatures ; and, in ]ilace of turning 
to the Lord, who would have comforted him in his 
affliction, he revolved in his mind projects of ven- 
geance, forgetting him who has said, ^‘Vengeance 
is mine, and I will repay.’’ One day, while hunting 
in the forest of Mormal, it chanced that he found 
himself alone with his servant Baldwin. The 
Count was not, as usual, inspired by his favorite 
exercise ; with spear down, he rode along, lost in 
his own dark thoughts, when Baldwin, who was 
somewhat familiar with him, ventured to say ; 

My good lord, thy thoughts are not here ; and 
yet the forest is fine and the game abundant.” 

I am following another scent,” said the prince, 
looking at his vassal ; hut to reach that quarry I 
would need a faithful arm and a steady hand.” 

If one knew the game, good lord, one might 
pounce upon it.” 

Knowst thou the mortal enemy of my house ? 
What bloody wolf rushed upon the brave Eaoul ? 
Blood calls for blood.” 

It shall have it. But what would the hunts- 
man obtain ? ” 

Gold, and the friendship of his lord.” 

Two days after, Herbert de Vermandois, on go- 
ing forth from his castle, received a ^mortal wound 
from a dagger, and some time after Baldwin gave 
up his post of gi'oom of the hounds, to become his 
lord’s secretary. 

It was a great crime, a cruel murder, which for 
long after frightened the lords in their castles, as 
well as their subjects in their huts ; but soon a 
greater crime terrified all Christendom. I have 


52 


The Old Chest. 


said before that the Lord Foulques, Archbishop of 
Rheims, was the friend, the father, and protector 
of the young King Charles. The latter had just 
granted to him the Abbey of St. Sithin, or St. Ber- 
tin, which the prelate dearly loved, for it was there 
he had spent his youth. But Count Baldwin;, by 
a scandalous abuse, which has become too common 
in our days, desired to possess, although a layman, 
this house of God, the patrimony of which be- 
longed to the poor ; and when he saw his hopes 
frustrated, he conceived against the venerable 
Foulques a hatred which could only end in blood ; 
and a second time (0 unhappy fate of princes !) 
Baldwin was near him, as the dagger is found 
ready to the hand which is about to use it for 
murder. King Charles and Archbishop Foulques 
had met at the manor of Compiègne ; the old man 
had come to take leave of his young king ; he 
was journeying along the road to Rheims, sur- 
rounded by a few followers, when Baldwin, fol- 
lowed by some hired assassins, fell upon him 
and pierced him with his lance. The parricide 
was accomplished. That wretch, brought up with- 
in the sacred walls of the Monastery of St. Am and, 
did not fear to shed the blood of the pontiff of the 
Lord. 

From the Rhine to the Pyrenees flew like wild- 
fire the news of this crime. Baldwin, under the 
powerful protection of the Prince of Flanders, 
ran no temporal risk ; but the Church, neverthe- 
less, had still her thunders. A council, assembled 
at Rheims, pronounced sentence of excommu- 
nication against the assassins of the most pious 
Foulques : Let them be cursed,’^ cried the bishops ; 


The Old Chest. 


53 


cursed in the city, cursed in the fields, cursed in 
their offspring, cursed in the fruit of their lands, 
and their herds of oxen, and their flocks of sheep ; 
let them he cursed coming* in and going out ; 
cursed within the house, cursed without. May 
their bowels rot ; let no Christian even salute 
them ; let them receive the burial of the ass, and 
let them lie on the dunghill in the face of the 
whole world.’’* 

Under the protection of the prince whom he had 
served with such arduous fidelity, Baldwin feared 
nothing, and he lived in great wealth. Several 
years elapsed thus, during which great events were 
accomplished. The Normans, under their chief 
Rollo, made an alliance with the Franks ; they re- 
ceived as their domain fair Neustria, with its fertile 
fields, its limpid waters, and, converted to Chris- 
tianity, they really formed a part of the Frankish 
nation, dear to Cod and man ; young King Charles, 
too feeble to resist his great vassals, was seized by 
the perfidious Herbert de Vermandois, and shut 
up in the tower of Peronne, thence transported to 
Orleans, where he died in the year of Christ 929. 
Ralph, Duke of Burgundy, was seated on the throne 
of Clodowig and of Charlemagne. On his death, 
the last descendant of the race of Pepin, Louis 
IV. d’Outremer, ascended to the place of his an- 
cestors, but only for a few days. Those were troublous 
and disastrous times ; hatred and murder seemed 
as nothing to the men of that age ; like Lamech of 
old as it is written in the Book of Genesis, they 
said, laughing, I have just killed a man ! ” 


* Acts of the Council of Rheims. 


54 


The Old Chest. 


William Long-Sword, Duke of K’ormandy, perish- 
ed, through shameful treachery, slain by the order, 
and perhaps by the hand of Arnoul, Count of 
Flanders and son of Baldwin. . . . These 

fierce lords thought only of blood and yiolence, and 
their fatal passions always found docile instru- 
ments around them. Baldwin, who had passed 
from the service of the father to that of the son, 
was, he confessed to me, the witness, if not the 
accomplice, of this murder. But there the grace 
of God awaited him. 

The sight of the forsaken corpse of this prince, 
but lately so brilliant and'so chivalrous, recalled to 
the troubled conscience of Baldwin the murders 
which the waters of human prosperity could never 
wash away. He looked at, touched those wounds, 
and he remembered. He confessed his iniquity be- 
fore the Lord his God, and he desired to do 
penance. He immediately left the Isle of Pec- 
quigny, where the murder of that powerful lord 
had been accomplished, and, walking day and night 
barefoot, he went to throw himself at the feet of 
the pious Bishop Ausbert, then occupying the See of 
Cambrai. There he confessed his crimes, and asked, 
on his knees, humbled under ashes and hair-cloth, 
to be released from the Anathema of Holy Church. 
The pious prelate did not close his door on this 
sinner whom the Shepherd of the sheep brought 
back on his shoulders, but he prescribed to him, 
as his canonical penance, a fast of three years and 
a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre of our Lord. 

Baldwin obeyed, but before setting out on his 
long journey he gave to the poor the wealth which 
he had acquired by bloodshed, and after journeying 


The Old Chest. 


55 


day and night, clad in a poor woollen tunic which 
concealed a hair-cloth, fasting, praying, and living 
on alms, he reached the shores of Provence, and 
there embarked for Palestine. He visited in turn 
the sacred places, and all were witnesses of his pen- 
ance and his tears. How could the sinner refrain 
from sobbing and beating his breast at sight of the 
Mount of Olives, of Golgotha, of the sepulchral 
cave where the Saviour slept for three days, follow- 
ing step by ste]3 the sorrowful footprints of the Son 
of God upon earth ! But to the just tears shed on 
the footsteps of Jesus Christ, our sweet and merci- 
ful Saviour, the numerous pilgrims who visit the 
Holy Land mingle those which are forced from 
them by the sorrowful fate of Christian people who 
are there, praying and suffering around the sacred 
tomb, and each day subjected to the outrages of the 
infidels. 0 Lord ! why dost thou delay in aveng- 
ing thy people, and delivering from the oppression 
of unbelievers these memorable places, which thou 
didst choose thyself, to consummate there the 
greatest of sacrifices ? 

It is only at the price of gold that pilgrims are 
admitted into the sanctuaries, and often their blood 
waters the threshold. 

Baldwin had the happiness of suffering for Jesus 
Christ many humiliations and outrages, which, 
doubtless, served as expiation for his crimes in the 
eyes of the just Judge, who also saw the deep re- 
pentance of his soul ; and, after three years passed 
in prayer, mortification, and persecution, he re- 
turned to Europe, and received absolution of his 
crimes. 

He asked to retire amongst us, so as to end in 


56 


The Old Chest, 


solitude liis life, contaminated by dealings 
and intercourse with the world ; and, as a 
lay brother in this holy house, he long edi- 
fied us by the severity of his penance and by 
his love of humiliation. Often, at the request 
of the Father Abbot, he would tell ns of his long 
journeys ; he described the Holy Places, which are 
to all of us as our own country ; he represented to 
us those vast multitudes of pilgrims, that peaceful 
army, which ask no other favor than that of being 
allowed to weep at the tomb of its Saviour,; he also 
made us weep relating the sufferings and insults 
which faithful Christians undergo,- and we all shud- 
dered, saying : Who then shall deliver them ? ” 
But, alas ! what does it matter ? The trials and 
pleasures of earth shall soon end ; we are approach- 
ing the end of human things ; when this century 
has elapsed, the world shall have rendered its ac- 
count to its J udge, and the fire of heaven, coming 
down on the earth, shall have consumed the place 
of our exile. The air, the land, and the sea are full 
of warning ; there is in the ocean extraordinary 
movements ; a wdiale, which is no other than the 
leviathan of the Scriptures, has come aground on 
the coast of Normandy ; the elements are disturbed 
at their approaching dissolution, and men’s souls 
are turning towards the God who is soon to judge 
them. Everywhere people are becoming detached 
from perishable goods ; they are given to the poor, 
to churches, to monasteries. Once more, alas ! 
what does it matter ? Soon shall the poor be first 
ii^ihe kingdom of God, earthly churches shall be 
changed into eternal tabernacles, and the inmates 
of monasteries shall be judged according to the 


The Old Chest, 


57 


graces which they have received and the nse they 
have made of them. . . . May the Master find 

ns with loins girt and with lamps lit ! 

I forgot to add that Baldwin died on ashes seven 
years after his entrance to the Monastery of Elnon. 
When dying, he made a public confession of his 
crimes, and recommended himself to the prayers of 
his brethren. If any one comes after me and reads 
this, let him pray for us, poor sinners ! 

This was written in the first year of the reign of 
Hugh Capet, God having transferred to this power- 
ful family the sceptre which had remained for two 
hundred and thirtyTive years in the hands of the 
descendants of Charlemagne. 



CHAPTER VIL 

THE CHÜRCH-BUILDEK AND THE TROUBADOUR — 
ELEVENTH CENTURY. 

We were four brothers, sons of Turold, a tenant 
of the Abbey of Elnon, and descendants of Baldwin, 
formerly secretary to the Lord Count of Flan- 
ders, and since lay brother in the Monastery 
of Saint Amand, where he ended his life 
in penance. The monks were good and lenient 
lords to us, liberal and benevolent, and, com- 
paring our lot with those of the vassals of the 
lay lords, could only thank Heaven. Still, my 
young brother, Hervé, who had been taught some 
learning by one of the monks, became dissatisfied 
and disgusted with the rudeness of our vassals. 
He secretly left our father’s house and the abbey 
lands, and fled, without letting any one know 
whither he was going nor the plan whicii he had 
formed. Some thought that he had gone to the 
Holy Land, others believed that ho had retired to 
some desert place to lead the life of a hermit. It 
seemed to me that a certain love of adventure had 
alone drawn him away, and I cherished the hope of 
one day seeing him again. 

Like my elder brothers, I desired nothing else 
58 


The Old Chest. 


59 


than the peaceful life which I had seen my father 
and mother lead ; but I wished to share this life 
with a young girl, whose father was a vassal of the 
Count d’Esne, a patron of the Abbey of Elnon. I 
loved her and she loved me, and our hearts were 
torn when her lord disposed of her in marriage to 
one of his people. Alone in the world, my father 
having just died, wounded to the depth of my soul, 
I presented myself to the Father Master of Novices, 
that I might be received as a lay brother, but he 
wished to try my vocation, and put me off for some 
time. I was returning from the fields one evening, 
thinking sadly of my betrothed, now sitting by the 
hearth of another husband, when, near a little 
chapel dedicated to the Blessed Mother of God, I 
saw a man kneeling in prayer. He was clad in a 
poor camelot blouse, and carried on his shoulder a 
mason’s trowel and hod. He had a quiet, good- 
natured face, but when he raised his large gray eyes 
it seemed as if his thought penetrated into your 
soul, like a wedge into wood. 

Good rest to thee, master,” said I to him. 

‘^God give it to thee, my brother,” answered he 
kindly. Oouldst thou tell me the name of the 
country in which I now am ? ” 

Thou art on the lands of the Abbey of Saint 
Amand. Yonder is the spire of the church and 
the blue roof of the monastery ; around it the town 
of Saint Amand, where a free fair is held to-day. 
Is it there thou art going, master ? ” 

No, my brother, I desire neither the pleasure 
nor the business of the world. I wish to find a 
lodging for the night, and to-morrow at the hour 
of prime I will proceed on my way.” 


6o 


The Old Chest. 


Come to the nbbey/’ said 1. Strangers are 
v/elcome there.” 

Let ns go there,” said he, under the care of 
God and of Our Lady.” 

AVe took the way to the monastery. The bell 
was slowly ringing, and its voice came to us 
through the pure, cool evening air. 

Brother Damase is in his agony,” said I. Ho 
is still very young.” 

The life of man is as a few days,” answered 
my companion. Happy is he who has the one 
thing necessary.” 

Beaching the abbey, he stopped, and considered 
for some moments its majestic structure, its thick 
walls, pierced with small grated windows, the for- 
tified works on the outside, which were intended to 
defend the house of God from the incursions of 
the ISTorthmen, the church built in wood and 
brick, the arched porch of which was guarded by 
two marble lions, between which the lord abbot 
sat when dispensing justice to his vassals. 

It is a fine building,” said I. 

It bears the stamp of past ages — of barbarous 
ages,” answered the mason ; to-day, thanks to 
the zeal of our pious King Kobert and the learned 
Pope Sylvester,* who sits in the chair of St. Peter, 
finer monuments are being raised, with God’s good 
aid.” 

Whilst he spoke thus, the door of the abbey 
opened ; the brother porter introduced us into 
that part of the house reserved for guests, and soon 


* Sylvester II. (Gerbert). This learned Pope gave a power- 
ful impulse to all the arts. 


The Old Chest. 


6i 


the father-liost came, with great humility, to wash 
the traveller’s feet, whilst the cellarer prepared a 
collation of herbs and fruits ; for on that day was 
kept the vigil of the holy Apostles Peter and Paul. 
When the mason placed himself at the table, the 
host remained to serve him, and allowed mo to 
stay until the closing of the abbey gates. They 
began to converse, and my companion gave many 
proofs of learning and wisdom. 

Whither art thou going?” at length asked 
the host. Why dost thou not take advantage of 
the three days of rest that our house offers to pil- 
grims and travellers ?” 

My rest is not here,” answered the mason, 
smiling. My work and my companions await 
me. ... I am going to Laon, to do there as 
much as I can of the Lord’s work.” 

And what is that work ? Who art thou ? ” 

I am a builder for the good God, a miserable 
and unworthy member of those pious corporations 
who endeavor, in all places, either to repair old 
churches or to build new and more beautiful ones. 
Thou knowesV most reverend father in God, our 
forefathers were much alarmed at the approach of 
the year one thousand, which they thought would 
bring the end of the world and the great day of 
divine justice ; but when that year had passed, 
and hope was renewed in their hearts, the world 
seemed to revive. The sacred basilicas were re- 
built, from bottom to top, in almost all parts of 
the world, especially in Italy and Gaul, although 
the greater number were still solid enough to re- 
quire no repairs. The Christian nations seemed to 
vie with each other as to who would raise the 


62 


The Old Chest. 


richest and most beautiful churches ; one would 
have said that the whole world, by common con- 
sent, had thrown off its rags to cover itself with 
new churches as with a white garment. My 
brethren and I have consecrated our strength and 
our life to this generous toil ; we go from city to 
city, hod and trowel in hand ; everywhere we 
build tabernacles to the hidden God, w^e raise asy- 
lums of prayer, w^e strive to make the very stones 
themselves speak a language worthy of the Creator ; 
and we hope, as the wages of our labors, to obtain, 
after the evil days of this life, a place in that 
divine city, whose foundations are of jasper, and 
its walls of precious stones.” . 

The mason had become animated ; his eyes 
shone with faith and fervor. The monk listened 
attentive and charmed ; and I . . . something 

said to me in the depths of my soul, ^^Go and do 
likewise. Work for God, forget the world, and 
thou wilt find peace.” 

The bell announced the closing of the gates. T 
left the mason and the monk, and I went to the 
church, which was left open on account of the next 
day’s festival. The father-master of novices was 
in the confessional ; I knelt at his feet, and told 
him simply wdiat I felt. He listened with much 
kindness and attention, and answered : 

It is a great and holy work, my son, to which 
thou wouldst consecrate thyself. Thou wilt labor 
not only for the present time, but for future gene- 
rations — for those ages of little faith which shall 
come after ns, to which the great monuments 
erected by your hands shall record the glory of 
God, the beauty of his house, and the wonder^ of 


The Old Chest, 


63 


his love. Thou art unhappy in the world, I think ; 
thou art not called to the religious life which thou 
didst wish to embrace ; but it may Be that what 
thou now feelesfc is a divine inspiration. . . . 

If so, thou wilt be free to follow it. Pray, my son, 
and I will also pray for thee and with thee. . . 

Some days passed, during which the mason did 
not leave the abbey. He edified the religious by 
his spirit of piety and of penance, and he excited 
such ardor in the young novices that they wished to 
go with him to build temples to the glory of the 
Most High God. My resolution remained un- 
shaken, and the Father Abbot gave me permission 
to depart. I left the farm to my eldest brother 
Nicholas, the mill to my young brother William ; I 
took with me only a cross of olive-wood, which my 
uncle Baldwin had brought back from the great 
pilgrimage, and I set out poor and free. 

We repaired to the city of Laon, whose Bishop 
w^as rebuilding the principal church, which had 
been destroyed by the barbarians of the North. 
Oh ! what a spectacle my eyes beheld. Innume- 
rable workmen, ranged under the orders of a chief, 
called the Master of Art, were occupied, some in 
cutting the stone, in carving the heads of pillars, 
the hmsi-rilievi, the statues of saints ; others were 
cutting and fashioning the wood, pounding the 
mortar, handling the trowel, or doing duty by 
carrying building materials or eatables. 

All worked without other salary than their daily 
bread. It was a marvel to see powerful men, proud 
of their birth and riches, accustomed to a life of 
ease and luxury, fasten themselves to a car with 
traces, and drag stones, lime, wood, and all the 


64 


The Old Chest. 


necessary materials for the construction of tlie 
sacred edifice. Sometimes a thousand persons, 
men and 'women, were attached to the same car 
(they being sometimes so large), and yet there was 
perfect silence, not the slightest whisper being 
heard. When they stopped on the road, they 
spoke but only of their sins, which they confessed 
with prayers and tears ; then the priests busied 
themselves in extinguishing hatred, having debts 
remitted, and, if they found one hardened enough 
not to pardon his enemies and refuse to listen to 
these pious exhortations, he was immediately un- 
fastened from the cart and dismissed from the 
pious company.* 

I was presented to tlie corporation by my com- 
panion, who seemed to exercise some authority 
over them, which was undoubtedly due to the ad- 
mirable talents which God had given him. He 
directed the labors of the masons, and under his 
direction I learned to erect walls, to build and to 
adorn the buttresses, to design the elegant outline 
of arches, and to raise majestic towers to the clouds. 
I was at length,, after some pious ceremonies the 
secret of which is kept among us, received among 
the affiliated, and sent, under the orders of our 
chiefs, .wherever the glory of God required it, that 
being the sole object of our art and our labors. I 
went on, for my poor share, to erect the glorious 
Monastery of Saint Martin of Tours, and the 
church which King Eobert was having built at 
Orleans in honor of Saint Aignan, the patron of 


* These details are also in a letter of Ilaiuion, Abbot of Saint 
Pierre of Dives, in Normandy, 1 145. 


The Old Chést. 


65 

that city. This building was forty fathoms long, 
twelve in thickness, ten in height, with a hundred 
and twenty-three windows, and nineteen altars, 
consecrated to as many saints. The front of this 
house of God was built with admirable skill, and 
on the same plan as that of the Convent of Saint 
Mary Mother of Christ, Saint Vital, and Saint 
Agricola, at Clermont in Auvergne. 

The sacred art made great progress ; the low, 
heavy pillars of the cathedrals built by our ances- 
tors were gradually raised ; the elliptical arches 
sprang up in bolder curves ; the towers rose higher 
on rows of triple arches ; the portals were decorated 
with ornaments and carvings of fruits, pearls, the 
figures of men and beasts ; and even some of our 
brethren, giving birth to new ideas, raised, elon- 
gated the curves of the arches, which, in their 
elegant designs, resembled two hands raised and 
joined in prayer. To this form they gave the name 
of ogival. Others, seeking always to serve the Lord 
in the person of their brethren, built hospitals 
or threw bridges over rivers ; and I have heard 
that, in Provence, a shepherd named Benezet, in- 
spired by God, built, without any human knowledge 
or resources, an admiralfie bridge over the most 
dangerous part of the Ilhone. May God aid men 
of good-will ! 

As long as- God left me strength, I consecrarted it 
to these pious labors, happy in working for heaven, 
and to realize, in raising these chapels, churches, 
cathedrals, the grandest idea which it is given to 
man to conceive here below — the worship and ado- 
ration of the Sovereign Lord. I was happy in 
thinking that after us, when we have long ])Co.u 


66 


The Old Chest, 


sleeping forgotten in our graves, generations will 
come and pray beneath these vaults raised by our 
hands ; I felt an ineffable consolation in collecting 
the stones for the altars on which the most sweet 
Saviour Jesus will immolate himself till the end of 
time; I redoubled my confidence in Mary, Our 
Lady, Mother of God and our hope, when I contri- 
buted to build her chapels, where so many afflicted 
souls shall come and find peace ; and the memory 
of all these houses of God, to which I brought my 
stone and my sweat, still consoles and rejoices me 
now Avhen I am old and infirm at my fireside. I 
was already old, and was still working at the build- 
ing of the chapel of the Monastery of Ferrière in 
Gatinois, where travellers and the sick were received 
and sheltered, when I was asked to assist in carr}^- 
ing a poor sick j)ilgrim into the intej’ior of the 
liouse. I went, and I saw a man of some forty 
years, who seemed overcome with fatigue and ill- 
ness. He had with him a shepherd’s scrip and a 
viol. I raised him, and helped to place him gently 
on a bed ; there his eyes opened, he looked at me, 
and I seemed to meet my mother’s look, which re- 
turned to me through the eyes of her last born, my 
young brother Hervé. I kept apart while they 
attended to his first wants, and when lie was alone, 
inside the serge curtains, I went and knelt beside 
him. He was not asleep. He spoke in a weak and 
feverisli voice, and his words were like the cadence 
of the hymns and canticles which we sang as we 
went to work. I took liis hand, he turned towards 
me ; his eyes shone like a dying lamp. 

“ What Avouldst thou of me r” said lie. 

I would know thy name.'’ 


The Old Chest. 


6 ; 


My name is Hervé, and I am a troubadour at 
the court of the most mighty Lord William, Duke 
of Normandy. . . I seek a lay in honor of 

my Lady Mary, Mother of God ; but my thoughts 
are confused ; ... I am suffering.'’ 

Hervé,” cried I, ‘^wertthou not born on the 
lands of the Abbey of Elnon ?” 

^‘It is true; and the taste for the gay art, the 
love of adventure, has led me far from my family 
and my country.” 

Hervé, dost thou not know thy brother 
Simon?” . . . 

He raised himself and looked at me for a mo- 
ment; then he threw his trembling arms around 
my neck, and said with tears : 

Is it thou, 0 my brother ? I see, then, one of 
my own before I die. Blessed be God, and thee, 
most sweet Virgin !” 

We embraced each other with inex^iressible joy, 
though mingled with bitterness, for I felt that I 
had found my brother only to lose him. In broken 
words he told mo his life ; he had been famous, he 
had composed lays, songs, fables, which had 
won the applause of noble ladies, of princes, and 
of barons ; and his sickness had attacked him in 
the midst of his success and his glory. ... Hé 
offered to God the sacrifice of his life, and yet he 
spoke one of his verses, and said : 

“I shall not be forgotten. . . . My verses 

will go down to posterity. The song of Roland 
shall be sung in the hall of barons to excite faith 
and valor in the minds of the young men. . . . 

Fair damsels will repeat my lays and my songs.” . . . 

He interrupted himself, and exclaimed : Alas ! 


68 


The Old Chest. 


my Saviour, pardon a proud sinner. Be merciful 
to him at the day of judgment.” 

Towards morning he grew worse ; he asked for 
and received the Sacraments with great devotion, 
and about noon of the same day he died. . . . 

0 merciful God ! receive his soul into paradise. 

1 had learned to read, and I examined the papers 
left by my poor brother. They were rhymes, some 
finished, some uncompleted thoughts, of which he 
bore the secret into the grave. 

Old age liad come ; my hand was heavy and my 
eyes were dim ; I left the corporation and my 
brethren in labor and in prayer ; I returned to 
Elnon to die, where my father and mother had 
died. My brother Nicholas was living, and had 
several children ; but I heard strange things con- 
cerning my brother William the miller. 

The land which he held had been sold to the 
Baron of Mortmain. William had followed his lord 
over the sea to the country of the English. The 
Duke of Normandy headed this expedition ; he con- 
quered the land ; from being a duke he became a 
king, and all who had accompanied him had great 
gain. Tlie poor foot-soldier, who had crossed the 
sea v/ith a stuffed doublet and a bow of black wood, 
donned the shirt of mail and mounted the steed of 
a knight; the mere knight became rich enough to 
raise a banner and assemble a company of men-at- 
arms ; the Norman herdsmen and Flemish weavers 
became nobles ; it was said that William had mar- 
ried an English girl of noble lineage ; he had be- 
come the possessor of her lands^ and one of the 
feudal lords of the kingdom which the Conqueror, 
as they call him, had founded. May these ric.hes 


TJic Old Chest. 


69 


be not a curse to him ! We shall never see liim 
again. As for me, with my brother and his child- 
ren, I await in peace the hour of my death. I think 
over the labors of my youth, and from those earthly 
Jerusalems which I helped to build, my mind is re- 
called to the heavenly Jerusalem, to which I hope 
soon to be admitted, through the grace of the 
Divine Saviour, Jesus, 



YTII. 

THE CUUSADER — TWELFTH CENTURY. 

I WAS still very young, a little boy of scarcely 
thirteen, when something extraordinary took place 
in the country in which we lived. Every one, 
monks, barons, free-holders, vassals, men, women, 
children, coming from the most distant places, 
crowded under the lindens which surrounded the 
church, and waited there, in great fear and rever- 
ence, as if they expected either the bishop or the 
sovereign of the country. The bells rang ; I was 
waiting like the others, seated on a block of stone, 
and my heart beat, I knew not why. At length 
was heard in the distance the sound of footsteps 
and of horses; the monks vrere chanting *‘Bene- 
dictus qui venit in nomine Domini!”* the people 
cried ‘‘Noël ! Noël I” f the ranks opened, and the 
Lord Abbot appeared, having on his left the Lord 
d’Esne, a patron of the Abbey, and on his right a 
small man of low stature, clad in a woollen cloak, 
carrying a pilgrim’s staff, mounted on a mule, and 
of very unpretending appearance ; and yet all the 
honors were directed to him. He got down from 
his mule, threw himself at the feet of the Lord 

* “ Blessed is he who cometh in the name of the Lord ! ” 

+ Literally, “ Christmas.” 


70 


The Old Chest. 


/I 

Abbot, whose blessing he humbly received, and 
ascended a little platform which had been erected 
for him. Thence he cast a long look on the peo- 
ple, raised his eyes to heaven, and, in a low and 
thrilling voice, he uttered words that I have never 
forgotten. 

He spoke of the Holy Land, which he liad visit- 
ed, of the glorious sepulchre of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, of the jolaces which had Avitnessed his Pas- 
sion, of the Garden of Olives, of the Prætorium, df 
Calvary ; he recalled all the memories of our faith, 
all that our divine and most sweet SaAdour suffered 
for us ; he told hoAv he had seen the places watered 
by the blood of our Pedeemer, how he had followed 
the sorrowful AYay of the Cross, kissed the stone of 
the most Holy Sepulchre ; and Avhen the picture of 
the loA'c and sufferings of Jesus had dra\\m tears 
from all eyes, then he reminded the multitude that 
these holy and venerable places Avere in the poAver 
of unbelieA'ers, that the discij^les of Mohammed Avere 
reigning there where Christ had deigned to live, to 
suffer, and to die. He described the profanations 
and sacrileges Avhichhe had Avitnessed, the torments 
and the persecutions that a godless people made 
those endure Avho Avent to Adsit the Holy Land. He 
had seen Christians loaded Avith irons, dragged into 
slavery, fastened to the yoke like beasts of burden ; 
he had seen the oppressors of Jerusalem sell to the 
children of Christ the permission to salute the tomb 
of their God, Avring from them their A’ery bread, and 
exact tributes even from poAxrty ; he had seen the 
ministers of God torn from the sanctuary, beaten 
with scourges, and condemned to an ignominious 
deatli. . . , 


72 


The Old Chest. 


As he went on, all hearts swelled with anger and 
with grief. A dull murmur ran through the crowd, 
women we];)t, men placed their hand on their knives 
or their swords. At length the Lord Gaultier de 
Douai, who was amongst his hearers, advanced the 
first, and asked to enter in the Way of God,” and 
the Lord Abbot immediately took from the hands of 
the prior a cross of red cloth, which he fastened on 
the shoulder of that brave knight. Every voice 
cried out “ God wills it! God wills it !” and the 
men went in hundreds to receive the cross, and 
pledge themselves by vow to the truce of God with 
Christian people, and to war against the infidels. 
The priests blessed those who received the sign of 
the holy war, saying : 

Eeceive this sign, the symbol of the passion and 
death of the Saviour of the world, so that in thy 
journey sin and misfortune may not overtake thee, 
and that thou mayest return happier, and, above 
all, better, to thy kindred.” 

And the people repeated : 

“He who will not bear his cross and come after 
mo is not worthy of me.” 

Others exclaimed : 

The coward remains behind ; for me, I will 

go.'’ 

The poor pilgrim who had thus put into The 
hearts of all this great and ardent desire was called 
Peter the Hermit. 

Soon the castles and the fields were deserted ; 
religious went forth from the cloisters, hermits 
quitted their solitudes, and, like a torrent, this in- 
calculable multitude rushed towards the East: Of 
these brave men, a great number following the lead 


The Old Chest. 


73 


of Gaultier lians Avoir, perished in the forests of 
Eastern Europe ; others, wiser and more prudent, 
under the command of a knight of our countr}", 
Godfrey de Bouillon, advanced to Jerusalem. I 
have heard from men, learned in the things of 
God, that the whole Eastern Church had known 
beforehand of the wonderful event which was to 
deliver it ; the saints and the kings of ages gone 
before had announced to the patriarchs and bishops 
the arrival of the crusaders, and the shade of 
Charlemagne was seen exhorting the Christians to 
combat the infidels. 

The holy city was taken after many battles and 
great hardships endured by the Christians; the 
Lord Godfrey w^as elected king, but * he would 
neither be consecrated nor crowned king of Jerusa- 
lem, because he did not wish to wear a crown of 
gold wdiere the King of kings, Jesus Christ, the 
Son of God, wore a crown of thorns on the day of 
his passion. In the hall of the baron as in the hut 
of the serf were sung the exploits and the valor of 
the defenders of the cross, and almost every family 
congratulated itseK on having given a soldier to 
Jesus Christ and a martyr to heaven. All were 
eager to celebrate the glory of the most ])ious God- 
frey, that of Tancred, and of the Count of Flanders, 
our mighty lord, Robert, who was called the 
son of Saint George, the lance and sword of Chris- 
tians. 

But, notwithstanding the valor of these brave 
knights and their successors, and of all the Chris- 
tian people who marched under their command, 
the unbelievers ceased not to threaten the Holy 
City, and, forty-five years after the taking of Jeru- 


74 


The Old Chest. 


Salem, tlio cause of our Lord Jesus and the great 
voj-age beyond the sea were preached again. It was 
in the reign of Louis the Seyenth, Thierry of 
Alsace being Count of Flanders. I who write this 
had been from my youth in the service of the 
Abbey of Elnon, and I had gained some renown in 
the use of the bow and arrow, having loved arms 
as v/ell as the plough, when the place where I 
dwelt was exchanged for some land of the Sire de 
E’oyelles, and I passed with the soil into the ser- 
vice of the new lord. This v;as in the year of Our 
Lord 1145. I was grieved at seeing myself with 
my children given over to the service of any othei 
master than the monks, who were good and gentle 
lords to us ; but my heart was comforted when my 
master placed me in the number of his men-at- 
arms, and the holy war was proclaimed throughout 
the barony. It was preached by the Blessed Ber- 
nard, Abbot of Clairvaux, a holy man endowed 
with the gift of miracles. Being in the retinue of 
my lord, I heard and saw this admirable man ; it 
was at Etampes, where, in presence of the kijig 
and the great barons, he preached the crusades, 
lie was irresistible ; exhausted by the fasts and 
privations of the deseid, the breath of life being 
barely in him, he persuaded by his aspect before he 
did so by his Avords ; his voice Avas strong in a frail 
body ; simple Avith the simple, it Avas said that he 
AA^as learned Avith the learned, and abounding in in- 
structions full of science and of virtue Avith men of 
lofty mind. On hearing his discourse, Avhich pene- 
trated and inflamed the heart, all arose and asked 
for the cross. My lord took it and caused his fol- 
lowers to take it ; and, about Pentecost of the year 


The Old Chest. 


5 


1147, we set out on the holy pilgrimage. We fol- 
lowed the banner of the Count of Flanders, of 
whom my lord was a vassal. The flower of chivah y 
had taken the cross ; deserted towns and castles 
were seen with widows and orphans whose husbands 
and fathers were still li\ing. We marched towards 
the East, keeping in great peace and concord with 
the inhabitants of the countries through which we 
passed ; but, when we had reached the frontiers of 
the Greek Empire, the army began to suffer from 
want ; the inhabitants shut themselves up in 
their towns and castles, letting down to us their 
provisions with cords from the top of the walls. 
This tardy way of furnishing us with food could not 
satisfy the multitude of pilgrims, and, weary of suf- 
fering from famine in a country abounding in 
everything, they began to procure what tliey re- 
quired by theft and pillage. I spared as much 
as I could the poor peasants, remembering what I 
was myself, and thinking, as I saw poor helpless 
creatures, of my wife and my children whom I had 
left so far away. 

The Greeks hastened with every means in their 
power the departure of the Latins. The Germans, 
subjects of the Emperor Conrad, took their way 
towards Phrygia, but, having only provisions for 
eight days, and pressed by an incalculable number 
of the enemy, they were obliged to beat a retreat, 
and their Emperor came to the King of France, 
and said : My Lord King, you whom nature has 
given me for a neighbor and a kinsmen, and whom 
God has preserved to protect me in a pressing necessi- 
ty, I wish to be no longer separated from you. Let 
my tents be pitched where you think best, I only 


The Old Chest. 


76 

ask you to permit that my companions-in-arms may 
join with yours.’’ The King received him with 
great kindness ; and from that time the two 
armies marched together, and the Emperor had no 
other dwelling than that of the King of France. 

Two days after leaving the town of Laodicea, 
the army came to the foot of a high, steep moun- 
tain, and the kiug sent forward the Count de 
Maurienne and Geoffrey de Plancogne, with orders 
to occupy the crest of the mountain, and thus to 
secure the safety of the army. But, shame on 
these imprudent and disloyal knights ! instead of 
obeying their prince, they went down the opposite 
side of the mountain, and planted the tents of the 
vanguard in the plain, and the Turks immediately 
fell upon the Christian battalions, which were 
peacefully defiling through the mountain passes. 
They sent upon us showers of arrows with too sure 
an aim, and horses, riders, and beasts of burden, 
rolling down the rocks, dragged with them into 
tlie abyss all that they met within their fall. 
The day was declining, and the gulf was being 
filled more and more with the remnants of our 
army. The infidels pursued us sword in hand ; 
the central wing of the army, v/here the poor un- 
armed people had gathered, was furiously attacked, 
and the defenceless multitude fled like a flock of 
sheep. The King of France, like a faithful Chris- 
tian and brave knight, hastened to throw himself 
into the thickest of the fight. Very soon separated 
from his escort and left alone, he abandoned his 
steed, and, seizing the branches of a tree, sprang to 
the top of a rock. A number of the enemy rushed 
upon him to make him prisoner, whilst others 


TJic Old Chest. 


77 

shot their arrows at him from afar ; hut, thanks he 
to God, his hauberk preserved him, and defending 
with his bloody SAVord the rock Avhich served him 
as a refuge, he struck off the hands and the heads 
of several of his assailants. The latter, not know- 
ing him, and seeing that it Avould he difficult to 
seize him, left him, to go and dispute for the spoils 
of the dead on the battle-field. 

Pressed by numbers, alarmed by the night, dis- 
banded, and wandering on the mountain-sides, the 
army seemed lost. I found myself, with my lord, 
whose esquire 1 Avas, near the Eeverend Grand Mas- 
ter of the Templars, who was named Evrard des 
Barres. It AATung my heart to see the rocks covered 
with the bodies of our comrades, and so many brave 
men given up to the chains of the infidels, like 
sheep to the knife of the butcher. It seemed to 
me that they might be saved, and, full of this 
thought, I approached my master and the brave 
Templar. 

What Avouldst thou, Gilbert ? said the Sire de 
Noy elles. 

My lord/’ answered I, and you, valiant and 
most Eeverend Grand Master, would you permit a 
poor man to tell you Avhat God has put into his 
heart?*’ 

Speak, my brother.*’ 

‘SSpeak wdth confidence, Gilbert.” 

^^Well, the army is lost if it continues to march 
without orders. Let the King of France, or my 
lord Thierry of Flanders, or thou, most noble lord, 
place himself at the head of these straggling bands ; 
let the leaders choose some lieutenants, who shall 
each have fifty-men under his orders ; let these men 


78 


The Old Chest. 


precede and flank the army ; let the men-at-arms 
■^yho have lost their horses he formed into troops of 
archers to cover the rear-guard ; let ns march as 
close and united as is the holy trefoil, 
fidels will retreat !... Pardon my presump- 
tion, noble lord.*’ ... 

‘^Pardon thee ! ” cried the Grand Master. “ Bless- 
ed be God, who has put into thy mouth the counsel 
which must save the army ! Thou hast hidden 
these things from the wise and prudent, 0 Lord, 
and thou hast revealed them to the simple ! ” 

Gilbert’s advice seems very wise,” added the Lord 
of Noyelles ; and, if thou thinkcst it best, Eeve- 
rend Grand Master, we shall go and communicate 
it to my lord the King. Follow us, Gilbert.” 

I accompanied them to the King’s presence, and 
my lord disclosed to him the plan which I had con- 
ceived. The King clasped his hands and raised 
them to heaven, saying : 

Praise be to the Lord, our host shall be saved ! 
Gilbert, if I ever see the land of France again, thou 
sluilt be free and rich ! — Eeverend Grand Master, 1 
give thee command, save our brethren, and I will 
serve under thy orders as an esquire. Act, and 
may God guard thee ! ” 

The Grand Master took the command, and he 
manoeuvred with so much wisdom and prudence 
that the army was happily enabled to cross the 
deflles, and arrive at the town of Satalia, where it 
found provisions and rest. Glory be to God alone.* 

* History records that a man named Gilbert, whoso country 
and lineage were unknown, caved by his wise counsels the 
Christian army from the danger into v/hich Geoffrey do 
Plancogne and the Count de Maurienne had thrown it. 


The Old Chest. 


79 


This second crusade was not successful, and my 
memory, enfeebled by age, cannot recall all the in- 
cidents of it. Gradually the most powerful lords, 
discouraged by these continual defeats, returned to 
Europe ; the army became more and more weakened. 
. . . I faithfully followed the fortunes of my 

lord, and with him I was enabled to accomplish 
Ihe object of the holy pilgrimage and venerate the 
tomb of our Saviour. So many hardships were 
none too much for such a happiness. 

I saw at Jerusalem the most illustrious Countess 
of Flanders, Sybille, devoted to the care of the 
poor and of lepers. Her lord and husband gave 
her to Jesus Christ in the poor, and, in exchange 
for his companion whom he left in Palestine, he 
brought back with him a drop of the divine blood, 
received of old by Joseph of Arimathea. '\Ye also 
returned to France. I came back as I v/enfc, poor 
and a serf. The King of France had forgotten his 
promise. The valiant Grand Master who had be- 
friended me died sword in hand. ^ly lord, whilst 
praising my services, and lauding the 2')rudence and 
courage of Gilbert, did not wish to deprive his 
barony of a vassal. . . . lam what I was be- 
fore. My children will be what I am. . . ' . May 

the will of God be praised ! A soldier of the cross 
should not murmur ! 



IX. 

THE SERF THIRTEENTH CENTURY. 

^o^y great are the miseries of this age ! 0 most 

sweet, most merciful Lord Jesus ! what have we 
done to thee that thou shouldst subject us to such 
slavery ! As men we are bound to the earth, Ave 
form part of the land on which Ave labor ; as soldiers, 
Ave never fight for our own cause ; as workmen, 
laborers, to others belong the fruit of our labors. 
Our lords Aveigh us down, as the millstone does the 
grain it grinds ; we find them everywhere ; there 
is no freedom anywhere ; everything is burdened 
Avith taxes, furniture, provisions, merchandise, land, 
and Avater. For the serf, the peasant, and even 
the burgher in the towns, toll at the gates, on the 
bridges, passing from one quarter to another; 
rights on the harvests, profits, forced labor, collec- 
tions for the benefit of the lord, exactions of all 
sorts. ... We can only have our grinding 
done in our lords’ mills; avo can only bake our 
bread in the common OAmn ; Ave cannot even marry 
Avithout the consent of our master, avIio disposes of 
us as he disposes of his hounds, or of the horses in 
his stables, and if, by dint of our toil and savings, 
Ave leave Avhen dying a few crowns or some furni- 
ture, the lord again can claim his share. Almost 
80 


The Old C/ii'sf. 


8i 


all tliese lords seek to force from tlieir vassals all 
tliat tliey can get ; oiir complaints arc ansvrered by 
blows or by jeers. J acques Bonhomme bas a broad 
back, lie can bear all !” This is what the barons 
and their men-at-arms keep saying. . . . Shall 

not a day come when Jacques Bonhomme can show 
that he, too, has a strong hand and a free heart ? 

Ilowevcr, we know how to fight : our vigorous 
arms use the pike and the axe, as they do the 
scythe and the hoe ; we have blood in our veins ; 
it boils in presence of the enemy ; and it is wrong, 
grievously wrong, that the knights, covered with 
their shirts of mail, mounted on their barbed steeds, 
treat us with disdain, we who advance first and 
without armor to meet the enemy. Foot soldiers, 
say they. Yes, foot soldiers who know how to 
fight and to die ! My grandfather, a brave squire, 
followed his master, Jean de Noyelles, to the 
crusades; my father, the first bowman of tlie 
country, signalized himself at the battle of the 
Bridge of Bouvines, where he fought beside his lord, 
Easse de hToyelles, grandson of Jean. But fortune 
turned her back on the Flemings that day ; Phi- 
lippe, King of France, gained the victory, and made 
a prisoner of Count Ferrand, the husband of the 
Lady Jeanne of Flanders. I have heard it related 
by those who were present that the people of Paris 
sang a mocking song around the chariot in which 
Ferrand was borne : 

“ Quatres ferrants tres-bien ferrés 

Traînent Ferrand bien enferré.”* 

Chained he was for twelve years. King Philippe 

* “ Four steeds well shod 

Drag Ferrand well chained 1” 


82 


The Old Chest, 


had honor and gain, and we an increase of misfor- 
tune. The Lord of Noyelles was also taken prisoner, 
and his goods confiscated to the profit of Gales de 
Montigny ; hut the King, who sought to take ven- 
geance on the Flemings, ordered the serfs of the 
barony to be sent to other domains, and to be 
replaced by French subjects. My father, with his 
children, was forced to quit the country of his 
ancestors, and was transferred to Picardy, on the 
barony of Coucy, and here it is that we experience 
all the worst evils of slavery ; here it is that I was 
born, and for forty years I have suffered, sweated, 
and toiled for my masters, and not for those of my 
blood and race. I took to wife a serf like myself, 
and everyday I see her wearing away her blood and 
her life in ungrateful toil. My eldest daughter, 
married but a short time, was so brutally struck by 
my lord’s master of the hounds that she died very 
soon after ; my son, for having killed a rabbit-dog, 
passed twelve months, and then another twelve 
months, in the castle prison, and was only released 
at the entreaty of my lord’s wife, who took pity on 
the poor people of her domain. 

But, kind as she is, she cannot do much, and we 
lived weighed down with taxes and payments, and 
subject to the harsh seignioral justice. Some 
amongst us, becoming desperate, have joined those 
bands which are called Las Pastoureaux.^ Perri- 
nct, son of my neighbor Landry, has taken to the 
road with them. 

About Easter, in the year 1251, an old man, with 
a long beard and pale, tliin face, began to wander 


* Shepherd boys. 


The Old Chest. 


83 

round tlio country; young men, laborers, and 
especially slieplierds, followed him eagerly, and, 
without consulting parents or masters, followed 
the footsteps of this man, whom they called the 
Master of the Shepherd Boys. He preached and 
said: ‘^Heaven grants to the simplicity of the 
shepherds what it refuses to the pride of the 
knights, namely, to deliver the Holy Land, and 
avenge good King Louis on the infidels.’’ 

When, followed by his band, he passed through 
the towns and cities, it was like an army terrible to 
all, and there were neither bailiffs nor sheriffs who 
dared to oppose them. The master preached ; but 
he preached liatred to the clergy ; and the priests 
were sorrowful at seeing the people exposed to so 
great an error, and the complaints of the bishops 
at length reached the ears of Queen Blanche, the 
mother of King Louis. She had before received 
and well-treated the Master of the Shepherds ; but, 
hearing the complaints of the clergy, she answered 
simply : ‘^God knows I had hoped that these men 
would recover the Holy Land ; but, since they are 
impostors, let them be excommunicated, pursued, 
and put to death.” All these knaves were excom- 
municated, the master had his head cut off, and 
the main body of the shepherds, terrified at the 
death of their chief, dispersed without resistance, 
and were slaughtered here and there, like mad 
dogs, by the knights and men-at-arms.* Perrinet 
was never seen again ; his poor mother died of a 
broken heart. So it was sorrow and bitter anguish 
everywhere. 


* See Matthieu Paris and Guillaume de Noug^. 


84 


The Old Chest. 


As for me, now I am old. I have lived in great 
poverty and tribulation, distressed at my own mise- 
ries and those of-others ; I have paid my debt in 
v/ork and lighting, for, when I was young, I joined 
in the forty days’ crusade against the heretics of 
Languedoc, called Les Bons- Hommes J'' I saw 
there great feats of arms, and great horrors revolt- 
ing to human nature. My lord followed the for- 
tunes of the brave %night Simon de Montfort ; 
and, at the battle of Muret, I saw that invincible 
man, courageous as Judas Machabeus, of whom the 
priests tell us, weep and lament at sight of the 
corpse of his enemy. King Peter of Aragon. These 
knights, these proud barons, have therefore a heart 
of flesh like our own. Alas ! why does not that 
heart sometimes speak for us ? . . . Amongst 

the great, one alone loves the poor ; that is the 
king. King Louis ; but he is away, and the lords 
and barons hold their iron hand over our heads. 
Ah ! Jacques Bonhomme , man of service, man of 
labor, man who bears heat and cold, who, then, shall 
deliver thee ? Lord Jesus Christ, take pity on thy 
poor people ! 


* Probably the Albigenses. 



X. 

THE SOLDIER OF CRECY — JACQUES BOXHOMME — 
FOURTEENTH CENTURY. 

This account was written by Sister Gertrude, a 
religious in the Hôtel Dieu, at Amiens. 

As far back in tlie past as my memory can reach, 
it recalls only ruin and disaster. My parents, poor 
serfs of the most powerful Count Enguerrand de 
Coucy, bore the heat and burden of the day ; they 
labored and toiled all the year, from early morning 
even in the coldest weather, to pay the taxes and 
tolls ; my father and brothers ploughed and did 
the carting for their lord ; my mother and I sewed 
diligently, and still bread was scarce, fear very 
great, and the oppression continual. Sometimes 
my father told us that when his father lived, under 
the holy King Louis, timës were better ; that his 
grandfather, who had lived in Flanders under the 
reign of King Philip Augustus, had often repeated 
that in those times and those places life was most 
sweet ; but as for me, I think tliat in the land of 
France the poor peasants and working people have 
always been in great distress, for happiness does not 
dwell with slavery. 

I was only a little girl when a great commotion 
arose in the country in which we dwelt. It was 

said that the King of the English had crossed the 
85 


86 


The Old Chest. 


sea with a great naval force, with the flower of the 
barons and knights of England, and that they came 
to lay claim to the crown of France, then worn by 
our right and natural Lord Philip the Sixth, and 
wdiich the King of England claimed because his 
mother was a princess of the French line. The 
poor people and the lords alike detested the thought 
that an Englishman should come to occupy the 
place of good King Louis, and reign over this fair 
and bountiful land of France, the first among 
Christian kingdoms. I remember that in the eve- 
nings, while stripping the hemp and spinning the 
flax, our good neighbors talked of the English as 
being like Turks and infidels. Therefore, when, in 
the year of Christ 1341, all the lords vdio held land 
summoned their vassals to join the host of the 
King of France, not one drew back ! My father 
and my eldest brother Nicholas, who was surnamcd 
Grand Ferre, followed the banner of the Lord de 
Coney. They had so much the more heart in their 
enterprise because they knew well that the Black 
Prince, son of the English King, Avas burning and 
desolating everything on his way. Men-at-arms 
and citizens asked only for battle, and the King, 
Avho had established his headquarters at Saint 
Denis, wished for it more than any one. The 
forces of King Edward were in Picardy, and the 
King had taken up his quarters at Oisemont. Sad 
and melancholy as I have heard said, because he 
rightly judged that he would be shut in between 
the army of the King of France and the strong 
fortresses of Abbeville and Saint Valery. He 
wished much lo pass the river Somme, and he 
brought thither some men belonging to the country, 


The Old Chest. 


87 


offering them money if they would show him how 
to ford it. Then one of them, a cowardly, treache- 
rous heart was he, showed him a passage called the 
White Ford, from the white pebbles and clay 
which formed the bottom of it. The King of Eng- 
land, as rejoiced as though he had been given 
twenty thousand crowns, immediately reached the 
AVhite Ford, and his army crossed the river, not- 
withstanding the opposition of the Lord Godemar 
de Fay, a Korman baron, whose little troop was 
defeated and dispersed. The English established 
themselves amongst the woods of Crécy, in Pon- 
thieu, and it was there that Philip’s host came up 
with them. Alas ! it was a pitiable sight, we are 
told, to see that army in poor array, wearied, 
harassed, having marched through a drenching 
rain and a terrible thunder-storm, and advancing 
towards the enemy with the setting sun in their eyes. 
The Genoese archers began the battle ; but they 
were assailed by the darts and arrows of the Eng- 
lish, which pierced their arms and heads ; and 
when they sought to beat^ a retreat the knights 
trampled them under their horses’ feet, crying : 
‘^Kow, quick, slay this rabble, for they hinder our 
passage without reason !"’ Another blow ; and it 
was pitiable. 

My father and the Grand Ferre followed the ban- 
ner of their lord, and tried to strike some blows 
with the axe and cutlass ; they did their best, and 
sought to make their way to where they saw the 
banner of the Lilies wave (not the sacred ori- 
ilamme, which was never displayed against Chris- 
tians). Kow, our lord the King was in great 
peril of his life. Ilis horse had just been struck 


SS 


-The Old CIksî. 


clown by an arrow" ; be bad then but five barons and 
sixty men-at-arms around bim, and bis anguisb of 
lieart W"as great ; be persisted in remaining on tbo 
field. ‘'Sire,” said my Lord Enguerrand — “sire, 
come away, it is time ; do nob throw your life 
away; if you bave lost tbis time, you Avill win 
another.” 

All was indeed lost ; King Edward and bis son 
were masters of the ground. My father, however, 
bad seized by the bridle a riderless steed ; be 
brought it to King Philip and said to bim : 
“Mount, sire, save the fortunes of FrancoT’ 
These words seemed to reanimate the King ; be got 
into the saddle, left the battle-field, covered wit!i 
thousands of corpses, and went forth into the dark- 
ness, for it was night. My brother, the Grand 
Ferré, served him as guide, and brought bim to the 
Castle of La Braye ; the gate was closed and the 
draw-bridge raised. They called for the master of 
the castle, who appeared on the battlements, and 
asked in a loud voice : 

“ Who is there ? Who knocks at this hour ?” 

“ Open, open. Castellan Knight,” answered King 
Philip. “It is the unhappy King of France.” 

The gates were opened wide. They brought the 
King, at his request, wine with bread soaked 
therein. The King, his suite, and the Grand 
Ferre drank each in turn ; then the troop set out 
again, and my brother conducted the King and 
the barons to the gates of Aipiens, wdiere they 
found themselves in safety. Tlic King wished to 
pay him, and gave him an angel. 

Such w"as tbc battle of Crécy, the beginning of 
our miseries. Alas ! on that spot fell the flower of 


TJic Old Chest. 




tlie French chivalry : by which we must believe 
that God has sent these things for our sins, for 
there was then in France great pride of lineage, 
covetousness of riches, and indecency of clothing. 
Ifc was no wonder that God sought to punish the 
misdeeds of the French by the scourges of his 
right hand. Thenceforth the English established 
themselves in France, and took, by famine, the 
city of Calais. The whole country trembled, as 
far as the river Loire ; there were none to oppose 
the enemy, and the misfortunes of the people in- 
creased from day to day. King Philip died, and 
his son John increased the taxes and burdens 
which Aveighed upon the people. Eight farthings 
on the pound w^ere paid on anything sold by all j)er- 
sons without distinction ; and if these taxes and 
exactions weighed upon the noble and the rich, 
how much more should the poor peasants complain, 
Avho furnished to the lords the men and money re- 
quisite for the war ! Twelve years passed thus in 
great misery and distress. The country Avas ruined. 
King John taken prisoner by the English after the 
battle of Poitiers, the kingdom given up to princes 
young in years and in experience, and wnse and 
l^rudent men could only deplore the cross with 
Avhich ifc pleased God to afflict: our country. During 
these tAvelve years I lost my good mother. May 
God grant her rest ! 

I was then twenty-three years of age ; but the 
floAver of youth does not bloom for poor people, 
whose lot is the hard labor of the fields ; and, 
besides, ifc had pleased God to turn toAvards his 
Divine Majesty my heart and my thoughts. Kow, 
one day, as 1 AA’as tending my flock in a large 


90 


The Old Chest. 


meadow of green grass, watered by the Authic 
Eiver, I saw ài^proaching our young lord, Pierre de 
Coney. He advanced with a gay and playful air, 
his dogs jumping around him. I arose to salute 
him. 

Good day to thee, shepherdess,” said he. 
Dost belong to the barony ? ” 

"•' Yes, my lord ; I am Pierre Duehaisne’s 
daughter.” 

And a lovely girl, too ! ” answered he, jeering, 
and then he added a great many mocking words. 
My heart swelled, and it grieved me to hear this 
language, which it seemed to me was displeasing to 
God ; but when the young lord stretched his arm 
towards me I fled across the meadow. He pursued 
me, and his hounds ran barking after me. . . . 

I was in great terror, and, recommending myself 
to God, the Blessed Virgin, and the holy Shep- 
herdess Solange, I jumped into the river, and re- 
solutely crossed it, the water being up to my 
shoulders. Oh ! surely the most sweet Virgin 
assisted me in that hour. 

My Lord Pierre watched me from the bank, 
angry and amazed, atid his great hound, Fanfare, 
leaped into the water aiid swam towards me. . . . 
1 hastened as much as I could. I heard his 
howls behind me, and I saw that my good dog. Paci- 
fique, had followed me, and with one blow had 
thrown to the earth my lord’s dog. I did not stop 
to look, and, running quickly through lanes and 
f»y v/ays, I reached my father’s house, and 1 carefully 
shut the door. My father came in just at dark, 
and he said to me : 

Daughter, thou canst go to bed,” 


The Old Chest. 


9t 

I willingly obeyed, fori was weary and sad, and 
I had slept for some hours when the sound cf voices 
awoke me. It was near midnight, and I heard the 
matins ringing at the Abbey of Dommartin. They 
were speaking.low, and amongst the confused voices 
I heard those of my father and brothers. Pacitique 
was howling in the yard, as if there was some one 
dead in the house. 

Feeling uneasy, I arose. I went down-stairs, and 
looked in. A large fire was burning on the cottage 
hearth, and the red flames, like the fire of hell, lit 
up a numerous company seated at the table where 
w'e took our meals. My father and brothers, Nicho- 
las, Jehannet, and Pichard, w^ere at the upper end , 
a number of our neighbors were there ; there were 
Tristan, Cœur-Jo5'eux, Landry, Larcher, Vierron, 
Longue-Jambe, and others besides ; but amongst 
them was a frightful figure, a man covered with a 
wolf-skin, and wdiose hairy hand resting on tlm 
table was handling a cutlass. ... At this 
sight I crossed myself, and recommended myself to 
Saint Michael, the enemy of devils, and the prince 
cf the heavenly hosts, and, reassured by the thought 
that nothing could happen to me without the per- 
mission of God, I watched and listened. My father 
was speaking. 

Is it agreed ? said he. Arc we all of the same 
opinion ?” 

All ! ” answered the were- wolf. AVe have suf- 
fered too much. iAre we not of the same flesh as 
these proud lords, and should we fear a coat of mail ? 
Besides, the men of all the Amienese villages, of 
Soissonais and Beauvaises, are determined, and, by 
the cope of Saint Martin, there shall be fine sport.” 


9 - 


TJlc Old CJicsî. 


“ Jiicques Bonliorame has suffered too mncli im- 
patience !” cried Tristan. ^^The hour is come to 
show his teeth !” 

Our lords, who let themselves he taken at 
Poitiers, have levied their ransoms on our lands, 
and left us naked,” said another. 

“ Companies of marauders have burned my farm. 
They killed my wife, whilst my lord, who saw tlie 
luavoc from his castle, v/ould not send a bolt against 
those miserable robbers.” 

“The lords did not do their duty at Crocy, nor 
at Poitiers,” said the Grand Ferro gravely. “ They 
acted without union, or obedience, or wisdom, and 
they have left the kingdom to the mercy of strang- 
ers. ” 

“ Let us hunt the lords ! The Grand-Provost of 
Paris, Master Etienne Marcel, is already making 
war on them.” 

“Take heart, and we shall be masters in our 
turn,” cried Longue-Jambe. “Lords and ladies 
shall work for us ; it will be a great sight to see 
them out milking the cows and turning up the 
dunghill with their white hands. . . .” 

“A truce to this !” said my father. “ Let us 
deliver ourselves from servitude without oppressing 
others. To-morrow at the free fair, will you all be 
there ?” 

“ All, by the Holy Cross !” cried they, the were- 
wolf like the others. 

“ The pass-werd ?” 

“Freedom!” 

“ Till to-morrow ! ” 

They all went out, my father and brothers with 
them, and I remained iialf-fainting with terror. I 


The Old Chest. 


93 


knew not what to do, alone and without advice. T 
dared not disclose it to any one, through fear cf 
injuiing my father and brothers, and I felt heart- 
broken, tliinking that French blood, Christian 
blood, was about to flow again. I began to pray to 
Grod, and next morning and a part of the day fol- 
lowing passed without my hearing human speech. 
Towards evening a neighbor came in, and said to 
me : 

‘^Knowest thou the news, Catherine ? ’’ 

“No, Susanne ; I know nothing,” answered I, 
trembling. 

“Well, there has been great trouble at the free 
fair ; the peasants took up bows and clubs against 
the lords and their squires, and we are assured — I 
tell thee in confidence — that they have burned the 
castle and killed the lord.” 

“ But who did it ?” asked I, in terror. 

“ Who ? Our men ! thy father at the head, and 
the Grand Ferro, and Richard, and Jehan net, and 
Warein, who became a wolf because the Lord de 
Treville outraged and killed his daughter, and 
many others ; without armor, with sticks and cut- 
lasses, they have done wonders. Remember what I 
tell thee, Cateau, all the gentlemen will be exter- 
minated.” 

“God forbid!” cried I; “they arc children of 
God like us.” 

“Thou shalt see! thou shaft see! and it will 
be well done. Jacques Bonhomme shows himself 
at last.” 

She went away, and I could cry at m.y ease, 
thinking of the danger in wdiich my father and 
brothers were, and of the great rage which had beci) 


94 


The. Old Chest. 




enkindled against Christians. In a few days the 
revolt had spread through the whole country ; a 
hundred thousand peasants had taken up arms ; 
oasfcles, fortresses, households, were given up to the 
flames ; the nobles fled twenty leagues at the ap? 
proacli of the Jacques”; matrons and maidens 
fled from fear of being ill-treated and murdered by 
wicked men ; even little children, who had never 
done harm, were slain. These hands went through 
the country, ravaging and spreading ruin and desola- 
tion all along their way. I learned, however, that my 
father, who v/as a just man, contented himself with 
fighting for his freedom ; the Grand Ferre, in the 
encounters with the knights and townsmen of Beau- 
vais, did wonders ; his axe hewed down men, as it 
had formerly hewed down the forest trees, and in 
one of these engagements he saved a poor, unhap- 
py lady, who with her little children was fleeing 
from her burning castle. 

Our poor Jehannet perished at the attack on the 
town of Meaux, made by the Jacques, reinforced by 
a small force sent from Paris to their aid by Master 
Marcel. The distress was great. This attack was 
repulsed, and the defeated peasants were either 
massacred by the sword or thrown into the Marne. 
This was a fatal blow to the Jacques party, and my 
father and brothers, seeing that nothing could be 
done in the vicinity of Paris, returned to Picar- 
dy. 

The De Coney domain was ravaged as though an 
army of infidels had passed through it ; and, one 
night as I watched, I saw the flames arise from the 
high tow’crs of the ancient manor. At the same 
rnomenl-, a knock came at the door ; I opened it ; 


The Old Chest. 


95 

it vras tlie Grand Ferre ; lie was pale, and blood 
was flowing from a great wound in bis Lead. 

Alas ! said I, wdiat bas befallen thee ? ” 

‘^Sister,” said be give me tby arm ; . . . 

the blood is blinding me.” . . . I led bim to 

the fireside, be sat down, and recovered his 
breatli. 

am done for,” said he at length; ‘‘but, 
thanks to Heaven, it w'as against the English. AVe 
were entrenched in a little fort, near the Ab- 
bey of Saint Corneille, when the English at- 
tacked us, but with my good axe I have put them 
past doing any harm. ... I killed forty, 
sister.’** 

Whilst speaking, he recovered a little strengtli ; 
but a moment after the pallor, of his face and the 
oiipression of his poor chest showed that the hand 
of God was upon him. He could not speak, but 
he prayed in a whisper ; for he had great devotion 
to the Blessed Virgin and the Saints, and he fell 
a.^leep. Confused noises came from afar ; my heart 
was as if held in a vice ; I felt death around me. 

. . . The noise came nearer ; hurried steps were 

heard in the path on the dry leaves, and a quick 
knock at the door. ... I again opened it, and 
a man rushed into the house. 

“If you are Christians,” cried he, “give me 
shelter ! I recognized him, and I pushed him into 
the stable, and closed the door on him ; it vras my 
Lord Pierre de Coucy. Nicholas woke uj), but, see- 
ing no one, he thought he had been dreaming, and 
fell asleep again. I made the sign of the cross, and 


Ilietclrc Chronique ” cIo'lTuugis. 


96 


The Old Chest. 


went into the stable; the proud lord was lliere, 
loaning against the cow rack ; he was pale, and 
scarcely able to stand ; his velvet clothes soiled, 
muddy, and blood-stained. 

Thou hast saved me,” said he ; the Jacques 
were on my track ; . . . I should have been 

cruelly put to death but for thy noble charity ; but 
there they are ; . . . tliey are knocking at the 

door. ... If they come, I can die like a 
knight ! ” 

Eecommend yourself to God and do not fear,” 
said I to him, thy blood shall not be shed on the 
threshold of our door.” 

I went out! it was indeed the Jacques, armed 
to the teeth. God gave me great courage. 

‘MVhy,” said I to them — ‘^wdiy do ye disturb 
the rest of the Grand Ferré, who has borne 
himself so valiantly amongst ye. He is sleeping ! 
See ! ” 

Tiiey saw my brother dying at the fireside, and 
retired in silence. Only one of them offered to go 
and bring a monk from Dommartin. I accepted 
the offer. . . . Nicholas was fighting against 

death, and prostrate on the floor I prayed God to 
spare him for some hours. At dawn, the monk 
came and reconciled my poor brother with his God. 
I saw him die. ... 0 God ! how full is our 

life of bitterness. 

I left in the monk’s care my Lord Pierre, who 
w^as still concealed in the stable. They departed, 
and I remained alone for the burial of my poor 
brother. From all sides came bad tidings ; the 
Jacques were defeated and hunted like w^olves. 
The King of Navarre, aided by the Count de 'Saint 


The Old Chest. 


97 


Pol, had, it was said, killed three thousand of 
them ; and I was told that my father had been taken, 
and was to he hung in the town of Montdidier, to 
serve as a warning and an example. At this news 
I had hut one thought — to save my father from the 
executioner’s hands, and to go and ask his pardon, 
Avere I to Avear my legs off. I left my brother’s 
body in charge of a neighbor, and I hastened to the 
Abbey of Dommartin, whither I knew that my 
Lord de Coney and the ladies of his house had re- 
tired. In my heart I had no terror ; my great sor- 
roAV took aAvay all fear and apprehension ; an d 
when I arrived I boldly demanded to he led to the 
presence of the lords and ladies. I was led to the 
gTiest-ch ambers, and T found my Lord Enguerrand 
de Coney and my Lord Pierre fully armed, and the 
young ladies sad and sorrowful. I Avent in fear- 
lessly ; I Avent towards .my Lord Pierre ; I threw 
myself on my knees before him, saying : 

Thou didst promise to grant me a grace ; I 
come to claim it now. . . . Pardon, pardon 

for my father !” 

What !” cried he, ^^it is my good hostess — she 
Avho saA'ed me from the Jacques, and (he looked at 
me closely) it is the beautiful shepherdess.” . . . 

“ Yes,” said I, I am that unhappy creature ! 
Pardon, my lord, pardon for my father, Avho is 
going to be hung !” 

And Avho is your father, my child ?” asked my 
Lord Enguerrand. 

^^Onc of your vassals, my lord, Jacques Du- 
chaisne, the Grand Eerre’s father. . . .” 

My lord turned sorroAATully away; the young 
ladies looked at me with tears in their eyes ; and as 


The Old Chest. 


ÇS 

I iDersisted in dragging myself along on iny knees, 
my Lord Enguerrand said in a tone of grief : 

I wish it were in my power to restore yon your 
father ; hut, my poor girl, the exeeutioner has done 
his v/ork ; and this morning your father has payed 
the debt whieh we all must one day pay. . . . 

If I had known that you had saved my son, I would 
have asked life for life. . , 

He spoke ; but I heard no more. ... I was 
almost dead with sorrow ; . . . the young ladies 
spoke to me gently ; they made mo lie down in a 
beautiful bed, hung with curtains ; but for many 
days and many nights I had a malignant fever, 
during which I saw around my pillow either gibbets, 
to which wQre hung old men in agony, or the pale 
face of my brother, dying by the hearth of our 
home, or the were- wolf extending his hairy hands to 
seize me, or my Lord Pierre standing in the stable, 
and myself buried in the vraters of the Authic, and 
struggling without power to save myself. ... 

When I Avas better, my Lord Enguerrand and 
the Lady de Coucy sent for me to come to them ; 
they spoke kindly, and my lord said to me : 

Catherine, I owe my soids life to thee ; thou 
art good and virtuous ; I Avish to make thee forget 
thy misfortunes ! I will free thee, and give thee 
in marriage to my Esquire Toussaint do Charuy ; 
thou slialt bring him for thy portion the 
lands Avhich tliy father rented. Art thou con- 
tent?’’ 

^•^Fy lord,” answered I, ^‘1 bless God for the 
kindness AAdiich he has put into thy heart ; but I 
have but one favor to ask from thy goodness : Let 
me enter religion, that I may be the servant and 


The Old Chest. 


99 

spouse cf our Saviour Jesus Christ. That is all I 
wish for ill the world.*’ 

Thy desire shall he accomplished/’ said the 
LadydeCoucy; ^^and thou, Catherine, wilt pray 
for us.” 

‘‘ The goods which thou dost refuse, Catherine,” 
added my lord, I will give to thy brother Rich- 
ard. I found him in prison, and I have become 
his security. From this day forth he is entirely 
free.” 

I kissed my lord’s hand, as happy as I could 
henceforth be. I entered the Hôtel Dieu at 
Amiens, the religious cf which were in great re- 
nown for iiiety and virtue ; for during the Black 
Plague they had tended the sick with gentleness 
and humility, exposing their lives without thinking 
of worldly glory, and I, though unworthy, was re- 
ceived amongst them. I made my profession under 
the name of Sister Gertrude. My brother Richard 
is nov/ a burgher cf this same town cf Amiens. 
There is still great misery in the land of France : 
the English are the rulers; rich and poor, nobles 
and serfs, are oppressed, and we expect from God 
alone deliverance frem so many evils. 

Our old sisters sem eûmes repeat the prophecy 
of Merlin, who foretold that a virgin, from the 
marshes of Champagne, would save France. 0 
Queen cf Virgins ! pray that it may be so, and 
deliver this poor people who hope in thee. 

Written in the ninth year of the reign of Charles 
V., whom may God gi^arcl. 



XI.' 

THE CITIZEK — FIFTEEHTH CEHTÜKY. 

My grandfather, Richard Duchaisne, being hon- 
orably endowed with the goods of this earth, had 
no difficulty in obtaining from the good city of 
Amiens the right of citizenship ; and, as he had 
learned in youth the trade of blacksmith, he de- 
sired to establish himself and to found a house. 
Therefore he sold to the Lord Toussaint de Charny 
the goods with which my Lord de Coney had en- 
dowed him, and with the proceeds he fitted up a 
fine blacksmith’s shop, being first, however, admit- 
ted into the honorable corporation of workers in 
iron, after having made, as proofs of his skill in 
the craft, a ploughshare, a chimney-piece bearing 
the arms of the good city, and some fire-arms. He 
was received ; and, a short time after, he took to 
wife Agnes Damaze, the daughter of the Syndic of 
the corporation, who was the mother of my most 
honored father. They lived long years in peace, 
and are now lying together in the Church of Saint 
Rcmy under the blue flag, near the baptismal 
fonts. 

Often, in the winter evenings, I cunously en- 
quired of my grandfather. Master Damaze, as to the 
origin of this corporation of Amiens, so noted for 

its privileges, and for the great freedom granted to 
100 


The Old Chest. 


101 


it by its lords ; and this is what he told me, having 
learned it himself from his fathers, and by the read- 
ing of some charters, which, from his office of Syn- 
dic and Magistrate of the town, he had frequently 
had in his hands. 

It was in the year of the Incarnation 1113 ; the 
ancient and celebrated city of Amiens had then for 
its bishop and lord Geoffrey, a man of high lineage, 
and full of zeal for religion and virtue. He dearly 
loved the people, and he wished every one to have 
freedom, and protection for his person and ]3roperty. 
He readily yielded to the request of the burghers, 
and granted them a municipal government and laws 
full of wisdom and justice. But the good bisho}? 
was not the only lord of the city. Three powerful 
lay lords shared with him the sovereignty, and 
these latter were neither as mild nor as clement as 
was the man of God. One of them. Count Enguer- 
rand de Boves, sent against the town his whole 
force of knights and archers ; he sought to become 
its sole master, and, in this impious war, the good 
Bishop Geoffrey’s goods were not spared. The 
cruel Enguerrand and his son, Thomas de Marie, 
dishonored their faith and their knightly fame in 
oppressing the weak, killing the defenceless, and 
carrying fire even to the monasteries and the holy 
churches. Great distress was in all the country, 
and the good bishop, seeing the misery of his peo- 
ple, distrusted himself. He sent his pastoral staff 
and ring to the Bishop of Eheims, and wished to 
retire to the Chartreux in the diocese- of Grenoble. 
The then reigning king, Louis the Eat, urged by 
the entreaties of the clergy, who brought under his 
notice the grievances of the people, took up arms 


102 


The Old Chest. 


against Thomas de Marie, and chastised the au- 
dacity of the fierce baron. The Lord King entered 
Amiens at the head of his army, and by his pre- 
sence revived -the hopes of the citizens. By his 
side. Bishop Geoffrey, whose heart was with his 
flock, knelt in prayer at the tomb of St. Acheul, 
whilst the citizens with the royal troops went to 
attack Chatillon, a little fort overlooking the town, 
and commanded by one of the four allied lords, 
named Adam. Even the women bore themselves 
with great courage in the attack on the fortress. 
The king received an arrow in his hauberk, and the 
fort was only taken after a blockade of two years. 
Therefore, to found this corporation, to give liberty 
to our fathers, and to oppose successfully those ter- 
rible lords, who were alike enemies of the sovereign 
and of the people, it required the concurrence of a 
holy bishop, placed by our Mother the Universal 
Church in the ranks of the blessed, of a just and 
courageous king, and of the citizens of this great 
city. The liberty which we enjoy has been pur- 
chased with much bloodshed, and with many hard- 
ships ; we should respect it, then, as the richest 
inheritance which our fathers could have left to 
their children, and eternally praise the great God, 
whose mercy has drawn us, as the children of Is- 
rael, out of the house of bondage, and from under 
the yoke of captivity. 

Still, our fathers and ourselves have also known 
evil days. Who can tell what hardships the pre- 
sence of the English has imposed upon us ? 0 

unexampled misery ! since the day v/hen the 
gentle King Charles lost his reason, there has been 
no peace in the kingdom of Franco. A civil war 


The Old Chest, 


103 

broke out between the Burgundians and the Arma- 
gnacs. 

The English took advantage of the dissensions in 
the royal council, the want of union and harmony 
between the king’s uncles, to invade once more this 
kingdom, which they had coveted for more than 
sixty years ; and then was seen, horrible to think, 
a mother, a queen, deposing her son and the heir of 
so many kings, in favor of a foreign prince, an 
enemy to the race and to the country of France ! 
Paris and all the cities of the kingdom were ex- 
hausted in their finances, ruined by taxes and sub- 
sidies, overwhelmed with distress. Epidemics, 
severe cold, famine, decay of industry and com- 
merce, all combined to ruin and harass the people ; 
in those times were seen on the highways and in the 
streets scores of little children, crying out, am 
starving,” and hard was the heart that would not 
pity them, but the poor householders could not 
help them ; for there was iiithe good towns neither 
wheat, nor bread, nor wood, nor coal, and the taxes, 
exactions of all kinds, rained down like hail from 
hell. 

The most Christian king fared no better than his 
subjects. He was poorly and humbly served in the 
Hôtel de Saint Pol, with few attendants, with the 
exception of old followers, and but little state. 
During this time, at the Louvre the English King, 
Henry, was displaying great pomp and pageantry, 
as though he w^ere king of the whole world, a thing 
which Avas grievously displeasing to the hearts of 
all true Frenchmen. The laborers were still more 
unfortunate than the citizens ; robbed, ruined, op- 
pressed, they left their wdves and children, saying. 


104 


The Old Chest, 


Lot everything go to the devil ; little we care 
what becomes of us ! and they became robbers in 
the woods, and recruited companies of brigands. 
The poor king passed from life to death, and the 
popular sorrow was increased, in seeing, 0 pitiable 
sight ! the funeral of the King of France headed by 
an Englishman, the sword of the King of France 
borne before Englishmen, and the people with sighs 
and lamentations cried, as they followed the coffin of 
King Charles YI : ^^0 dearest prince ! we shall 
never see thee again ; we sliall have nothing but 
wars, since thou has left us. Tliou art gone to thy 
rest, and w^e live in tribulation and sorrow.” 

My grandfather had seen King Charles the V., 
called the Wise, and his son and successor Charles 
VI. ; my father lived under the gentle dauphin, 
who was called Charles VII. , surnamed the Victo- 
rious, and many a time he told us children how 
the kingdom of the Lilies was recovered by an 
humble and simple shepherdess, who would rather 
have spun beside her mother, but who saved the 
kingdom of France, because God wdlled it ! and 
because Saint Louis and Charlemagne were kneel- 
ing before the throne of God, praying for their 
successors It was marvellous how she bore her- 
self in her position, and how grandly and impres- 
sively she spoke, whilst in all other things she was 
the most simple shepherdess that' ever was ! But 
a man was found, I say it to the honor of the third 
estate or burghers, who by natural and human 
means aided in preserving the state which Jeanne 
had recovered. This man was called Jacques Cœur ; 

* “ Prolés de la Pucello Trial of tîio Maid of Orleans.’^ 


The Old Chest. 


105 


and a cousin of mine, my mother’s nephew, who 
was long employed in the counting-house of a rich 
merchant of Bourges, told us wonderful tales of 
him. 

At that time, King Charles VII. had already re- 
covered a part of his kingdom from the English. 
But he needed Parisian coins or royal money to 
drive them finally from Kormandy. Then came a 
man of loio lineage, as the lords' expressed it, who 
uttered these noble words : 

Sire, what I have is yours !” 

The King, who at the time had neither goods 
nor means, requested him to lend him some money 
to carry on the war in Normandy, and Jacques 
Cœur collected for him four hundred thousand 
pounds.* The soldiers were paid, and did their 
duty so well that the English, baffled and discom- 
fited, were obliged to depart from the kingdom of 
France. To offer such a sum to his lord had been 
no easy matter for Jacques ; according to the ac- 
count of my cousin Norbert Damaze, a reliable 
man, he owned seven ships, with which he carried 
on an immense trade, sending to other countries 
the wines, fruits, and grains from the fertile land 
of France, the camelots and other stuffs, the works 
of our artisans in iron and copper, and bringing in 
return spices, medicinal drugs, balms, perfumes, 
wax, honey, glassware, gilt leather, silks, and 
metals, which come to us from other climes. He 
was the owner of mines of copper and lead, master 
of the mint, silversmith to the King of France. 
Abundantly rich, perhaps too much so, he had 


* About sixteen millions of francs. 


io6 


The Old Chest. 


built at Bourges the most beautiful house in France^ 
in which ho showed little wisdom ; he possessed 
twenty-two lordships, which were the cause of great 
trouble to him ; ho rendered to the country and 
to the king most glorious services, which provoked 
the wrath of the Vvdeked. And yet was the silver- 
smith less deserving than the lords, the Dunois, 
the La Hires, the Xaintrailles ! Poor Jacques 
Cœur was accused to our lord the King,*^’ im- 
prisoned, stripped of his goods, and condemned to 
make restitution. But in this extremity he found 
love and loyalty amongst his clerks and salesmen, 
assisted them with their savings, and furnished 
him wdth the means of reaching the Papal terri- 
tory. Pope Oalixtus III. honored this great and 
generous man, and gave him command of the fleet 
which he was arming against the Turks ; but 
Jacques, overwhelmed with grief, died in the Isle of 
Scio. May God grant peace to his soul, good and 
loyal as he was in all things, and a great honor to 
the burgher race from which he sprang ! 


Jacques Cœur was accused of havin;^ impoverished the 
country by exporting copper to the infidels, and if he did ex- 
port copper it was in exchange for Egyptian gold ; of having 
altered the money for his own benefit, whilst it was he v/ho 
had established order in the monetary systems : of having 
sent arms to the Turks, and it was proved that these arms 
were presents from Charles VII. to the Sultan of Egypt ; of 
having restored to his Mussulman master a Christian slave 
v/ho had taken refuge on board one of his vessels— the pro- 
mise of not taking away slaves v/as one of the express con- 
ditions of commercial intercourse with the Levant, and 
Jacques Cœur v/as obliged to submit to it. The clergy nobly 
espoused the silversmith’s cause ; Pope Nicholas V. wrote to 
the King in favor of the accused, and the Church showed her- 
self once more the protectors of innocence and genius. 


The Old Chest. 


107 


As for us, we biive lived in more peaceful days than 
those of our fathers. Louis the Eleventh reigns 
undisputed over the laîid of France, having no 
other enemy to fear than the fiery and irritable 
Duke of Burgundy, last male heir of that powerful 
line, an offshoot of the French Lilies. In the be- 
ginning of his reign m^uch trouble was made by the 
great vassals on pretence of the public good, but 
the King’s great wisdom extricated him from this 
dilemma. He was gradually seen sticking down 
all the branches of the feudal tree which eclipsed 
the majesty of the crown, and sought support from 
the men of low tlegree, in whom he found good- 
will, wisdom, and loyalty. Often have I seen that 
King, perfectly simple, clad in a short coat, Avith an 
old doublet of gray fustian, a felt hat, and a modest 
chaplet of medals, despising the vain magnificence 
Avith which the great of the earth usually are at- 
tired, keeping no greater state than Avhen ho Avas 
the poor exiled dauphin at Genaffc, and rcseiwing 
the fruits of his saAdngs for more useful things. Of 
the pleasures of kings and great lords ho had a 
fondness for one only, the chase, and this he kept 
for himself alone by edicts so harsh and so rigorous 
that it was a less crime to kill a man than a boar or 
stag. 

Our beautiful province of Picardy, the ancient 
appanage of our kings, was more than any other 
the prey of my Lord of Burgundy, who Avished to 
recover possession of the Picardian toAvns, formerly 
delivered to his house by traitors. My eldest daugh- 
ter, Beatrice, who Avas married to Master Ange Gai- 
ly, a scriAxner of BcauA^ais, oftentimes related the 
marvels and the feats of the siege of that city, and 


io8 


The Old Chest. 


tlie magnanimous virtue displayed by the citizens, 
wlio defended at the same time, against the terrible 
Duke of Burgundy, their goods, their honor, their 
lives, and the frontiers of the kingdom of France. 
It îvas ill the year 1472. . . . The Duke of 

Burgundy rode himself at the head of his army, 
which was formidable and imposing to see, but the 
citizens were not afraid. The company of archers 
did wonders ; the w^omen and young girls had as- 
sembled at the shrine of the Blessed Saint Anga- 
dresme, patroness of the city.* But they did not 
confine their efforts to prayer and lamentation ; they 
mounted the ramparts, carrying t» the defenders of 
the city supplies, provisions, cordials ; and, more- 
over, they aided in the righteous defence of their 
city, rolling great stones down upon their assailants, 
and pouring upon their heads boiling water and 
oil. In vain did the enemy several times attempt 
to scale the ramparts ; they were always repulsed. 

. . . The women and maidens (and, thanks be 

to Heaven, my daughter showed that she came of a 
good stock) cried, Saint Angadresme to our aid !” 
and they threw the cruel Burgundians into the 
ditches below. 

A simple and modest maiden of Beauvais, named 
Jeanne Fourquet, made herself remarkable. She 
snatched from the hands of a Burgundian standard- 
bearer the banner which he was about to plant on 
the walls, and as she made use of a small axe she 


* Saint Angadresme. was the daughter of Robert, Keeper of 
the Seals to Clotaire ; from her childhood she consecrated her- 
self to retirement and to the service of God, and received the 
veil from the hands of Saint Owen. She died in the year 
69S. 


The Old Chest. 


109 

and her descendants have borne the surname of 
Hachette, which is still dear to the memory of the 
people of Beauyais. One of the gates of the town 
had been forced in by blows of the culverin ; the 
Burgundians rushed forward to enter through this 
opening, but the courage of the citizens increased 
at sight of such great peril ; they heaped together 
wood, pitch, and pots of oil behind the broken gate, 
they set fire to it, and opposed to the enemy, for 
want of a rampart of stones, a rampart of unceasing 
flames, kept up by beams and planks from the 
neighboring houses. The enemy retreated, and 
after twelve hours’ siege and combat the citizens 
were reinforced by companies of artillery, bowmen, 
and guards, come from Amiens, from Senlis, from 
Paris, and from Upper Normandy, for in such cir- 
cumstances brother does not abandon brother, the 
fingers of the hand aid each other, and, when one 
good town suffers, all the others are pained and 
sorrowful. 

Before many days had passed there were so many 
men in the town that they would have sufficed to 
defend not only one wall, but the hedge of a field.* 
The siege lasted a month all but five days, and, full 
of rage, Duke Charles was compelled to decide on 
retreating without trumpets, repulsed by the citi- 
zens, who had saved their honor and the welfare of 
the kingdom. King Louis was grateful : he grant- 
ed to the citizens of his good town of Beauvais the 
right of holding noble fiefs, without paying taxes 
or being held to militia service, the free election of 
the mayor and of the members of their corporation. 


* Expressions de Commines. 


I 10 


The Old Chest. 


and the right of assembling in the houses of citizens 
to deliberate on their common interest ; he exempt- 
ed them from the poll-tax, and various others , he 
enjoined the establishment of a solemn procession 
every year, and commanded that the brave women 
of Beauvais should henceforth march in front of the 
men at the above-mentioned procession of Saint 
Angadresme, and he dispensed these honorable wo- 
men from all the sumptuary laws respecting their 
garments, rings, and jewelry. 

Five years after, the fierce Duke of Burgundy 
perished, as was supposed, at the battle of Nancy, 
under the blows of the Swiss peasants, by whom, 
twice before, he had been shamefully and entirely 
vanquished. The crafty Louis had often said that 
he knew no better means of avenging himself on 
Charles than to let liim throw himself against the 
G-ermans,’** and the event showed how clear-sight- 
ed was the King of France. 

At the time of my Lord of Burgundy’s death, lie 
had just promised to aid and support King Ed ward 
of England, in recovering the kingdom of France. 
But God delivered us from such calamities. He 
permitted that the rich and glorious house of Bur- 
gundy, which had been honored far and near, per- 
ished miserably in the person of Charles, who left 
no male heirs, and that gradually, by wars and by 
treaties, the crovai of Franco recovered its rights 
over so many duchies and earldoms, so many lord- 
ships, which had been held by the heirs of Philip 
the Bold, to the great detriment of the kingdom of 
the Lilies. 


* Seo Commincs. 


The Old Chest. 


1 1 1 

Whatever were the sufferings whicli the populace 
still endured by the raising of taxes and increase of 
tolls, considering the times of our fathers we should 
esteem ourselves fortunate. The King has at heart 
great good-will for us ; he favors commerce and 
traffic by land and sea ; he grants great freedom to 
many towns • in fine, he loves those wdio are the 
life of the state, and they in their turn ought to 
cherish him. May God grant him long life — for 
he is anxious to live — to him and to his posterity ! 

I shall not see his royal descendants reigning 
and flourishing ; I am old ; my children, praise be 
to God, are honorably settled ; one of them, Au- 
gustine, is a goldsmith, and excels in his craft ; 
the second, Tabian, a scrivener and compiler of 
rubrics, has quitted our city of Amiens to settle in 
Paris, where he dwells not far from the Church of 
Saint Jacques-de-la-Boucherie ; Beatrice, my 
daughter, is happy and much esteemed in her 
town of Beauvais ; Françoise, my youngest child, 
left us to devote herself to the service of God in 
the austere Order of the Poor Clares. Thus families 
are scattered according to the will of Almighty 
God. I did what I could for my children, first in 
teaching them to love and serve God, then in in- 
structing them according to their state and con- 
dition. 

All of them know how to read and write ; 
they are not obliged to put for seal or signatures, 
at the bottom of documents or letters, a tool of 
their trade — the blacksmith, his hammer; the 
carpenter, his plane ; the mason, his trowel.'" . . . 

-Wohaveccen mary cTccuincnla arc! loiters cf mechanics 
signed with baibaicus and umcimcd me iks, repiercntlrg the 


1 12 


TJie Old Chest. 


I hold a little knowledge good in all conditions ; 
I think this opinion is gaining more and more, and 
that it soon will be a disgrace for any one not to 
know how to read, either for amusement or neces- 
sity. 


tools of their craft, as the signature. It was the plebeian coat- 
of-arms. Mr. G entil Destamps, at Lille, has many papers thus 
signed in his valuable collection. 



XII. 

CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT — SIXTEENTH 
CENTURY. 

I, THE great-grandson of that Ambrose Dn- 
chaisne who esteemed knowledge so highly, and 
the grandson of Master Fabian, the compiler, have 
added some notes to those which my fathers (may 
their souls rest with God !) have laboriously traced. 
We live in strange times, and all around us is dis- 
sension of minds, discord, and malice. Often have 
I heard said by church people, There must be 
heresies.” Bitter necessity of our condition on 
earth, where we can neither have peace nor rest ; 
for to enumerate the streams of blood which here- 
sies have caused to flow is something impossible. 
In the last century, as I have heard related by the 
Bohemian and Hungarian students who come 
to seek knowledge at the University of Paris, 
Germany was harassed by the cruel w^ars of 
John Ziska and his followers, the offspring of 
the damnable heresy of John Huss ; and in the 
beginning of this century, under King Francis I., 
it was again from Germany that the evcr-to-be-la- 
mented error of Luther came to us. Eevolt against 
God and against the powers of the earth is all that 


The Old Chest, 


1 14 

was brought to us by the disciples of Liitber, of 
Zwinglius, and of Calvin. 

What is God ?” asked the good King Saint 
Louis of the Sire de Joinville. 

God,” answered he, is something so good 
that there can be nothing better.” 

Truly,” said the holy King, “ you have answered 
well. But if we ask of heretics, ^ What is your 
God they would answer thus, it would seem : 
^ Something so bad that worse there cannot be ; for 
he punishes us for evils which we cannot avoid, and 
for evil that he himself works in us.’ And in truth, 
their God, if he resembles them, is not- the God 
who reigns in heaven. But through divine grace 
the kingdom of France, though much imperilled, 
has remained Catholic ; although at the head of 
the Huguenots were seen gentlemen, lords, and 
even degenerate sons of Saint Louis, the citizens 
of the towns, the good people of the country were 
faithful, and have not permitted the kingdom of 
the Lilies to lose the renown of its ancient integrity. 
But, as the kingdom suffered, each family had to 
pay some tribute to the public misfortunes, and 
there were few who had not to mourn the defection 
of some of their children. 

There were three brothers of us, Claude, Fran- 
yois, and myself, who was named Thibaut. We 
were in the flower of youth just at the time wlien 
the religious disputes reached their height. The 
young King Charles the Ninth was a minor, under 
the regency of Queen Catherine, and it was whis- 
pered, amongst us citizens of Paris, that the inno- 
vations meet with great success at court. Michel 
de THopital, then Chancellor of the realm, was a 


The Old Chest. 


115 

very doubtful Catholic, and his wife and all his 
family were Protestants ; the Prince of Condé, an 
obstinate Huguenot, was one of the King’s council ; 
Gaspar de Coligny seemed to have the confidence of 
the Queen Eegent, to whom he pointed out the pos- 
sessions of the clergy as an easy prey with which 
to fill the void in the royal treasury. Antoine de 
Bourbon, King of Navarre, who was also a Hugue- 
not, had just been appointed lieutenant-general of 
the kingdom ; the foreign worship was practised 
even in the royal palace of the Louvre, and on weak 
minds these examples gradually exercised a fatal 
infiuence. The youngest of my brothers, François, 
had profited little by the virtuous examples of those 
gone before. He was a young man of fiery temper, 
opposed to restraint, an enemy to work, and whose 
inclinations deeply grieved our worthy and honored 
mother. Even on her deathbed it troubled her, 
and she prayed to the sweet Jesus and the Blessed 
Virgin for her poor François. Alas ! if she could 
have foreseen the future, with what bitterness of 
heart she would have left the earth ! We soon per- 
ceived that our brother shunned our society, and 
neglected the trade of goldsmith in which we were 
all employed, my eldest brother being the master, 
and we working as his aids and assistants, whilst 
we waited to be received as masters. We learned 
that François had appeared at Protestant sermons, 
which were then delivered in various parts of the 
city, and that he had e^^en partaken of the Lord’s 
Supper with them. It was Holy Thursday. My 
brother Claude, a man of great virtue and of eminent 
piety, had passed his day in the churches before the 
sacrament of the altar ; I had just come down 


The Old Chest, 


1 16 

from the workshop, where I had given the last rub 
of the polishing-iron to a chalice ordered for Easter 
Sunday by the curé of Saint Germain TAuxerrois ; 
our old Aunt Marthe had set the table for the colla- 
tion, and, whilst awaiting our coming, she stitched 
away at clothing destined for the poor of the 
parish, for she was the almoner, and was very 
zealous in seeking out the unfortunate. We were 
waiting for François, when the door of the back- 
shop opened, and he entered abruptly. Looking 
at the table, with a defiant air, he said shortly : 

Is that all the supper 

Now, the supper, according to custom in Lent 
and penitential times, consisted of dried fruits and 
of last year’s apples ; and, certainly, it was a 
wedding-feast compared to the privations of so 
many religious in their cloisters, who, on so me- 
morable a day, eat nothing but bread and water ; 
and still more the Fathers of Saint Bernard, founded 
by Jean de la Barrière, ate this bread on their knees, 
and drank the water from skulls, which they used 
instead of cups and glasses. 

‘‘Eh ! is it not Lent ?” said Aunt Marthe gently, 
“ and could w^e use any other food ? ” 

“ Those are superstitions taught by the priests,” 
cried François, “ and I no longer pretend to con- 
form to them.” 

So saying, he sat down, drew from under his 
cloak some slices of salt meat, and began to eat. 

“ Brother, what are you doing ?” cried Claude. 
“ You are outrageously violating the precepts of the 
Church, and' I shall not suffer it in my presence, 
under the roof which sheltered our worthy parents.” 

“I no longer recognize your Church, nor the 


The Old Chest. 


117 

laws which make slaves of men ! I am a man, I 
am free, and to all three of yon I declare that I 
have abjured it, and that henceforth I belong to 
the Communion of Calvin.’’ 

0 wretched boy !” cried my aunt. 

Brother, retract your words,” said Claude : 
such treason is not possible. The son of our virtu- 
ous parents cannot be an apostate.” 

1 am not an apostate, but a reformer,” answered 
François ; the jargon of priests, monks, and de- 
votees has no more influence over me. I belong 
to the free w'orship, in which each man is to himself 
his own church and his own light.” 

Poor deluded boy ! do you assume that your 
single and feeble judgment is wiser than the 
Church founded by Jesus Christ, and confirmed by 
sixteen centuries of persecution and of triumph ? 
Do not quit the fold, my brother ; tlie sheep who 
stray from it are lost ! It is pride which causes 
you to follow the common way, and to embrace 
these novelties ; it is pride which invites you to 
join a wandering flock, beguiled into the way of 
perdition, rather than remain a disciple in the 
school of truth, letting 3 ^ourself be led by the hand 
of the pastors in the right way. Renounce the 
spirit of falsehood, 0 my dear brother ! and be sub- 
missive in order to be saved.” 

That is enough of preaching, brother Claude,” 
replied François ; your words are as idle as the 
drifting snow. It is a thing decided upon, done, 
and consummated. I am a Calvinist, and in spite 
of all you can say, to-morrow I depart with the fol- 
lowers of the Prince of Conde.” 

These w'ords filled us with consternation ; poor 


iiS 


The Old Chest. 


Aunt Marthe knelt down before François ; my bro- 
ther ‘and I implored him ; all was useless ; the 
child of perdition left our dwelling, and we soon 
learned that, renouncing his faith, as he had re- 
nounced the honorable employment of his fathers, 
he had enlisted amongst impious German foot-sol- 
diers and other profligates, whom the Prince of 
Condé kept in his retinue. This w^as for us the 
subject of great affliction, and shame amongst our 
neighbors and associates, for it was 'well known 
what fidelity the tradespeople of Paris had shown 
towards the Holy See and the good and ancient re- 
ligion. My brother Claude especially took this 
grief to heart, and became more than eyer assidu- 
ous in prayer, meditation, the offices of the Church, 
and in practices of austere penance, and his design 
became but too apparent. At length he disclosed it, 
and told us, with mingled gentleness and firmness, 
that lie had resolved to leave the v/orld, to servo 
God in the religious life, and that he had chosen 
the Order of Capuchins, as being one of the poorest 
aud most penitential that could be found. 

We must make reparation for that poor unfor- 
tunate,” said he to me, ^Mhat the v/rath of God 
may not come, down upon him. I wnllingly offer 
myself to the Divine Majesty to obtain mercy for 
our unhappy brother.” 

A few days after this conversation, my wmrthy 
brother set out for Angoumois, where he was, ac- 
cording to the will cf his superiors, to enter the 
Novitiate of the Capuchin Brothers in the city cf 
Angoulème. I bitterly lamented his departure, 
deploring the fatal innovations which had thus 
separated, from such different motives, three bro- 


TJiv Old Chest. 


119 

tliers who had been from childhood so closely uuiteci, 
and living in such intimacy and confidence that it 
had seemed that death alone could have sundered 
so strong an alliance ; and, in regretting my saintly 
brother Claude, I still wept for the fall of the un- 
fortunate François. 

Public affairs were* occupying every mind. The 
Prince of Conde had thrown off the mask, and 
openly manifested his design of supporting the new 
religion by force of arms; Caspar do Ooligny joined 
him ; and, at the head of the Huguenot army, they 
£urj)rised the city cf Orleans, which they made 
their headquarters, after having, however, plun- 
dered the Catholic churches and confiscated the 
Church goods — that is to say, the patrimony cf the 
poor. The sectaries cf Calvin thought themselves 
then superior to their adversaries ; they assembled 
tumultuously, and, in the towns Avhere they were 
numerous, they seized upon the churches, profaned 
the holy altars, and inflicted most frightful tor- 
tures upon the priests and the faithful. Such ru- 
mors of their cruelty went abroad as filled all lion- 
cst hearts with horror ; never had the land of 
France been afflicted by so many sacrileges, nor by 
so much barbarity. 

Iti this interval, I received a letter from my bro- 
tlier Claude, wdiich I insert here. He wrote : 

Angouleme, June 25, 15C2. 

Peace be with You ! 

“ Beloved Brothee ; 

It has pleased the Lord to try ns ly great ca- 
lamities since I last wrote to }ou. You have per- 
haps heard that this city of Angoulcme, besieged 
bj the Huguenots, has at last fallen into their hands; 


120 


TJic Old Chest. 


they seized upon the gates of the city, and have 
ravaged and despoiled all the places consecrated 
to the Lord, although a treaty, confirmed by oath, 
secured to priests and faithful Catholics the free 
exercise of their religion. The houses and per- 
sons belonging to our holy order have not been 
spared, and the Lord has pei^itted, for his greater 
glory, that many among us resisted even unto 
blood. Perhaps it may be agreeable to you to know 
the names and deeds of the new confessors. There- 
fore, I will cite Brother Grellet, Superior of the 
Convent of St. Francis, in this city, Avho, from 
hatred to the true religion, was hung and strangled 
on the gallows, before the eyes of Caspar de Co- 
ligny, the chief of these rebels. Ready to appear 
before God, with the cord already around his neck, 
this courageous priest predicted to Coligny a terri- 
ble and bloody end. . . . May God avert from 

him this prophec}^, and have mercy on that poor 
sinner ! Brother Jean Yiroleau, reader of the same 
monastery, was inhumanly massacred by the here- 
tics, as also an old man of eighty, Brother Jean 
Avril, who was beheaded ! A learned doctor of 
theology. Brother Pierre Boumeau, also gave his 
blood and his life for the same holy cause. The 
Huguenots took, and shut up in a house belonging 
to a citizen of the town, named Papin, thirty Ca- 
tholics, whom they put to death by various tortures. 
Some died by starvation, others were sawed in two, 
others burned at a slow fire — horrible cruelties, 
Vvdiich are repulsive to the natural gentleness of 
our nation. A worthy magistrate, Messire Jean 
Arnold, was strangled, after having undergone va- 
rious tortures ; widow, who was venerable alike 


The Old Chest. 


I2I 


from her age and yirtue, fell into the hands of these 
ruffians, who would not respect the old age of their 
mother, and was dragged through the streets and 
put to death. Another Catholic lady, haying given 
hospitality to some Huguenot soldiers, was burned 
in her own house ; a saintly priest, in the vicinity 
of Angouleme, was scalded with boiling oil, and 
pierced with dagger strokes.* Heaven is filled with 
our holy confessors ; but how disgraceful to the 
land of France is such barbarity ! Our enemies and 
murderers are distinguished from us by no appa- 
rent sign, neither of language nor of bearing ; 
they have the same laws, manners, and even air. 
. . . Alas ! they are of the same blood and 

the same race !... I have learned that our 
brother François is with the impious band which 
has filled our city with blood and carnage ; I en- 
deavored to see him, urged by the natural friendship 
of a brother and by the holy affection of a Chris- 
tian ; but he avoided me, and has left the city. 

. . . Mght and day I besiege Heaven with 

my prayers for this lost sheep of the flock ; I in- 
voke in his behalf the martyrs of our own time, 
whose blood has been shed by him and his ; that 
blood is always beneath the altar, crying out ; but, 
like that of the most sweet Jesus, it cries for mercy 
and not for vengeance ! Pray, also. Brother Thi- 
baut, for our Holy Mother Church, for our native 
land of France, for François, and for me, a misera- 
ble sinner, who am and always will be, in our Lord, 
Your affectionate brother, 

^^Bkothee Claude, 

Unworthy Beligious of the Order of St. Francis.” 

* “Théâtre des Cruauté des Hérétiques,” pa^ge 33; 


122 


The Old Chest. 


This letter only confirmed so much fatal news. 
The battle of Dreux, gained by the Duke of Guise 
over, the Prince of Conde, somewhat consoled the 
hearts of the Catholics ; but soon the murder of 
that hero, assassinated by Jean Poltrot, at the in- 
stigation, as it was thought, of Caspar de Coligny, 
marred the general joy. We passed long years thus 
in civil discord and uproar, war by land and sea, 
pillage, cruelty, and heavy state troubles, the 
hatred between Catholics and Protestants ever in- 
creasing ; and that which the people of Paris bore 
to the Huguenots knew no bounds when they saw 
them once more supported and upheld by the court. 
A pacific edict w^as published in the year 1570, 
which granted to the Calvinists the free exercise of 
their religion, and four places of safety. La Rochelle, 
Montauban, Cognac, and La Charité. The young 
King gave the hand of his sister Margaret of Valois 
to Henry, King of Kavarre. Admiral Coligny, fol- 
lowed by an imposing retinue of Huguenot lords, 
appeared in Paris, and was received by King Charles 
with honors which would hardly have been granted 
to the preserver of the menarch}^ This spectacle 
displeased the faithful citizens. But soon the ru- 
mor went round that the admiral threatened the 
King and Queen with a new civil war, because their 
majesties made some opposition to his demands, 
unjust and unreasonable as they were ; that, when 
the King would not to please him declare war 
against the King of Spain, he had the audacity to 
tell him in open council that, if his majesty was not 
willing to make war in Flanders against Philip II. , 
he could rest assured that he would soon have it in 
France against his own subjects. 


The Old Chest. 


123 


And tlie King said to certain of liis old followers 
that, seeing himself thus threatened, his hair stood 
on end. The Parisian people, amongst whom these 
rumors spread, knew no hounds in their fury against 
the sectaries. The personal quarrel between the 
Duke of Guise and Admiral de Coligny fed still 
more these great dissensions ; every one foresaw that, 
from the haughty pride of the Huguenots, the 
hatred wherewith the King, the Queen-mother, and 
the Duke d’Anjou regarded them, and that which 
the two houses of Guise and Ohatillon bore each 
other, some evil effects would follow. I was warned 
by the dean of the corporation of goldsmiths that a 
certain number of citizens and others had been sent 
for to the Louvre, where a surprise was feared 
during the night, and he advised me to keep in the 
house. 

This was on the 24ih of August, 1572. My 
brother Claude, then guardian of the Convent of 
Kantes, had obtained permission from his superiors 
to spend some days with me. We kept watch, as 
anxiously as though the storm were passing over 
our heads ; my wife, also uneasy, had put aside her 
spinning-wheel, and was silently saying her rosary. 
Brother Claude was reciting in an under-tone the 
matins of his breviary. I was looking over my ac- 
count-book, but my mind was elsewhere. . . . 

Part of the night had already passed. My brother 
was no longer praying, he was thinking, and sud- 
denly he said to me : 

I am going out, going to Bethisy Street, to 
warn the admiral that something is being plotted 
against him. ... I feel myself urged to give 
him this warning, for a sudden and violent death 


124 


The Old Chest, 


would find liim perhaps impenitent. . . . The 

hour predicted by the Père Grellet is near, hut 
the mercy of God is greater than our crimes.’’ 

I dared not reply, for I felt his authority as 
that of an elder brother and a priest ; and, 
besides, why should I oppose him when he me- 
ditated so holy an action ? I wished to follow 
him, and my good wife understood my desire, for 
she said : 

Thibaut, I fear nothing here in our own house ; 
we are known as honest people and faithful Catho- 
lics. . . . Whatever happens, I shall not be 

afraid. ... Go with your brother, then. 
. . . Have no fears for me. . . 

So saying, she tied a white handkerchief on my 
arm, according to the advice which the dean of our 
guild had given us in the morning, she gave me the 
horn-lantern, and we went out into the dark and 
starless night. The streets were deserted, but peo- 
ple were still up in many houses, as we saw by the 
light that shone from the windows. . . . There 

was deep silence. . . . Suddenly the great bell 

of Saint Germain I’Auxerrois began to toll loudly, 
and immediately there arose a fearful tumult around 
us. . . . Many houses opened; soldiers, citi- 

zens, constables, filled the streets, uttering threats 
and cries of death ; shots from guns and pistols 
were heard ; and by the light of torches were seen 
passing troops of armed men, crying : 

Death ! Death to the Admiral ! Vive la 
Messe ! ” 

Great God!” whispered my brother, pardon 
those who use the name of thy sacrifice of peace 
hastening to murder and carnage ! Oh ! what evil 


The Old Chest. 


125 

counsel there has been. . . . But let us has- 
ten, brother Thibaut. . . 

We reached the Hue Bethisy — it as light as day, 
and with one glance we saw that we had come too 
late. The dwelling of the admiral had been entered 
by the soldiers and followers of the Duke of G-uise. 
We went into the court-yard. There we found him 
whom we had come to seek : the corpse of the ad- 
miral lay on the pavement, pierced with several 
wounds, and the horror of death was on the pale, 
contracted face. The prophecy of Father Grellet 
was accomplished. -Not far from him lay the body 
of Seligny, his son-in-law, and the remains of some 
of their servants. 

We have seen enough,” said my brother. Let 
us go ; these soldier^ would not listen to words of 
peace. Let us go. Grod may perhaps present to 
us some other good work for the glory of his 
name.” 

^Ye set out again. Armed bands paraded the 
streets and ransacked the houses which were known 
to belong to Huguenots. My brother’s gown, and 
the white scarf which T wore on my arm, protected 
us from their insults, but both of us felt our hearts 
wrung at seeing the terrible vengeance taken by 
that infuriate mob, that soldiery without chiefs and 
without restraint. As we neared the Seine, the 
crowd diminished, the cries, blasphemies, musket- 
shots all died away in the distance, and we could 
scarcely see from afar the red light of the torches. 
As we turned into a deserted street a faint and 
painful moan reached our cars ; my brother ran 
forward, I followed him, and by the light of the 
lantern we found on the pavement a man who 


126 


The Old Chest. 


would have had all the appearance of death, were 
it not that long sighs came from his lips and an- 
nounced that he was still living and suffering. I 
raised him in my arms. I threw aside the cap 
which covered his face. 

‘^Oh !” said he, ‘^how I suffer !” 

‘‘Knowest thou that voice, brother Thibaut?” 
cried Claude. 

‘^Alas!” said I, ^^it is the voice of our poor 
Prançois ! ” 

Claude brought the lantern close to the face of 
the wounded man, andjn spite of the blood from 
his wounds and his deathly pallor, we recognized 
our poor brother. He had swooned away. With- 
out speaking or losing any time, we took up the 
heavy and inanimate body ; and, God giving ns 
strength, we bore it, without stopping for breath, 
to the threshold of my house. My good wife was 
waiting for us in deadly terror. She opened the 
door at my signal, and it was instantly decided that, 
in order to conceal him the better from servants 
and neighbors, we would place my brother at the 
back of the house, in a room which had been unin- 
habited since our mother’s death. We laid him on 
the bed, and my wife and my brother sought out 
his wounds and endeavored to dress them. Alas ! 
it was pitiful to see this handsome and vigorous 
young man return thus to his home, dying and 
j)ierced with wounds ! 

Is there any hope ?” asked I. 

My wife turned towards me with a mournful 
glance, and brother Claude exclaimed : 

Let us invoke God that the soul, at least, may 


The Old Chest. 


127 

be saved ! 0 God of mercy, let not the work of 
thy hands perish thus !” 

François made some movement. He groaned 
and muttered some broken words : 

^‘1 shall not die without defending myself,” said 
he, making an effort with his feeble hand, as if to 
repulse a threatening enemy. ^^Ah! ah! I have 
wounded you ; but I have also got my share . . . 
my death-blow.” 

He fell back exhausted ; but he strove to murmur 
the cry familiar to the soldiers of Condo : 

Sweet is danger for Christ and for our country ! 
Vive TEvangile!-^ . . . Down with the Gui- 

sards ! I detest the Mass and images ! Oh ! how 
I suffer.” 

His pale face became contracted ; his cold hand 
groped about the quilt ; it seemed as if death had 
passed over his livid face, and that his soul was 
witnessing an awful spectacle. 

‘^0 God ! God of mercy !” cried Claude, throw- 
ing himself on his knees, “ by thy blood, by thy 
wounds, by thy cross, delay, delay his death ! Give 
my brother one moment of life and of reason to ab- 
jure his errors ! Lord, I offer myself entirely to 
thee. ... I have dreaded death. I have 
feared the torments which I saw my brethren suffer ; 
but now I accept them ; I offer myself as a victim 
for him ! Do not spare me. Lord ! Here are my 
limbs, here is my blood, my life. . . . They 

are but little for the salvation of this soul ; but 
thou art so good and merciful that thou wilt not 
reject my offering. Mother of mercy, thou, angel 


“The Gospel for ever !” 


128 


The Old Chest. 


of peace, who weepest with us, pray ! pray ! there 
is yet time !” 

I remained silent, motionless, between my two 
brothers. So powerful a prayer could not remain 
unheard. My wife wet François’s lips and temples 
with a cordial; he sighed, his eyes opened, their 
dim glance was calm. 

Where am I ?” asked he, in a quiet voice. 

^^In your father’s house,” said I, embracing him, 

between your two brothers, Claude and Thibaut.” 

Is it possible,” said he, it is you ! Oh ! what a 
frightful dream I have just had. . . . I saw 

- myself summoned, judged, and condemned . . . 
damned ! and I still live.” 

‘•My brother,” cried Claude, with the inspiration 
of a prophet, “ my beloved brother, you still live. 
God has granted you this moment. It is the 
moment of grace, the time of repentance. God 
awaits to condemn or absolve you. Eenounce your 
errors, and cast yourself into the arms of Jesus 
Christ, open to receive you.” . . . The dying 

man looked at us all ; we were weeping and praying. 

“ I may be pardoned,” murmured he féebly ; 
“yet I have sinned much. I have blood on my 
hands. . . . Oh ! .but I have done evil since I 

. quitted this house, this happy, innocent house ! 
Once, I believed, I prayed. . . . For long years 

I have not prayed, for I no longer believed. . . , 
My God, take pity on me. . . If there was a 

Catholic priest here !” . . . 

“ I am a priest,” cried Claude. “ I can hear and 
absolve you.” 

He bent over François, holding him in an em- 
brace. We left the room. The voice of our poor 


The Old Chest. 


129 


François could be heard, with that of Claude, who 
spoke gently and with authority. At length, I saw 
my brother solemnly raise his hand and make the 
sign of the cross over the dying man, pronouncing 
in a distinct voice the holy words of absolution. I 
approached ; François was calm ; he had his hands 
clasped, and seemed as if praying inwardly. He 
said to us, speaking with difficulty : 

I invoke the sweet Mother of God ; in the 
midst of my errors I had never altogether forgotten 
her. Our mother loved her so much. . . 

He could not pontinue ; his strength was failing 
raj^idly ; the agony began ; it was short, but severe, 
and when the early dawn came into the room, the 
repentant soul of our poor brother had appeared 
before God. 

We passed the next day, sad and recollected, be- 
side the remains of our poor François, unheeding 
the agitation of the mob, who went on to Montfau- 
çon and along the Seine, to see the corpses of tlie 
Huguenots. 

Towards evening, the officers of justice published, 
with sound of trumpet, an edict, in the name of 
the King, by which he forbade those of the guard 
and officers of the city to .take up arms or make 
prisoners, under pain of death ; but that all should 
be placed in the hands of justice, and that they 
should retire to their closed houses, which would 
appease the fury of the people, and give several of 
them time to retire from the country.”* 

This edict served to restore public peace ; I had 


* Seo La Popelinière, a Protestant historian, author of 
La Vraye et entière Histqire des derniers Troubles.” 


130 


The Old Chest. 


onr brother buried with the prayers of the Church, 
and with the money found on him I made a foun- 
dation of Masses for the repose of his soul. 

A few days after, my brother Claude left us. 
Embracing me, he said : 

My dearest brother, I believe that I am bidding 
you a last farewell. Something tells me in the 
depth of my soul that the sacrifice which I offered 
to God for our dear François has been accepted, 
therefore I do not expect ever to have the happiness 
of seeing you again in this world ; but here below, 
or before God, I shall never forget you.” 

He blessed us all and went away. I never saw 
him again on earth, God having accepted the obla- 
lation of the just in behalf of the sinner. My 
worthy brother was sent as visitor to the convents 
of his order in Languedoc, where the Huguenots 
had revived their former fury. He fell into the 
hands of a party of German troopers, who, after 
having subjected him to all manner of insults and 
outrages, and obtaining from him only words of 
faith, of courage, and of benediction, they put him 
to death with every imaginable cruelty. He ren- 
dered up his blessed soul to God, singing the Credo, 
with a fervor and piety which overcame the horror 
of torture. Such was the account of his glorious 
end, from a companion who, terrified at sight of 
the troopers, had hid in the brushwood. 

The Provincial of the Capuchin Fathers wrote 
me this account, exhorting me to give glory to God, 
which I did amid my tcare. I had a little monu- 
ment erected to my two brothers, in the Church of 
Saint Eustace, near the second pillar from the 
choir. On it was inscribed : 


The Old Chest. 


131 

BROTHER CLAUDE DUCHAISNE, 

PRIEST OF THE ORDER OF CAPUCHINS, 

PUT TO DEATH THROUGH HATRED OP RELIGION, THE 20tH OP 
JUNE, 1573. 

MAY GOD RECEIVE HIM IN HIS GLORY. 

FRANCOIS DUCHAISNE, 

SUB-OFFICER IN THE ARMY OF THE PRINCE OP CONDE, 
WHO DIED ON THE NIGHT OP AUGUST 24TH, 1572. 

MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON HIM. 

Since then no remarkable event has occurred in 
my family. I took part, as all good Frenchmen 
should, in the Holy League, created to defend the 
most Christian kingdom against the temporal and 
spiritual tyranny of the Huguenots, and against 
the bad government of King Henry the Third, 
who seemed to bo worthy of the throne, until ho 
was seated upon it. Wo sought to maintain the 
ancient laws and religion of the monarchy, and we 
opposed the impiety which was caused by the Pro- 
testant confederation. 

The indolence and the vices of the King, the 
near extinction of the race of Valois, the right of 
succession devolving upon the heretical King of 
Kavarre, the troubles whicli threatened France in 
the near future, filled 'with alarm the hearts of 
good Frenchmen and faithful Catholics. Some 
would have raised to the throne the Duke of Guise, 
a descendant of Charlemagne, and a prince so 
noble and so valiant that all the other princes seemed 
as commoners beside him ; others hoped that the 
blood of Saint Louis would not lose its rights, and 
that one day the King of Kavarrc would return to 
the faith of his fathers. I was amongst these latter. 
The death of the Duke of Guise, and the Cardinal 


132 


The Old Cltcsr. 


de Lorraine, his brother, who were treaclierously 
assassinated by order of the King, brought to its 
height the hatred which the people bore to the last 
of the Valois. The Sorbonne and the Parliament 
declared him to have forfeited his right to the 
crown. He marched against Paris to avenge him- 
self on the head and heart of the League ; but ho 
was, as is known, assassinated at Saint Cloud by 
the hand of the unfortunate Jacques Clement ; 
and, dying, he declared that he left the throne to 
the King of Kavarre, henceforth Henry IV. 

The League, faithful to its oath, would not re- 
cognize the heretic King. The victory which he 
gained at Ivry over the Duke of Mayence only in- 
creased the resolution of the Parisians to let him 
lay siege to their city, to suffer hunger and every 
danger, to maintain the head of the kingdom in his 
fidelity to the service of Cod. On the 8th of May, 
1590, the King of Kavarre laid siege to Paris. 
There was only wheat for one month ; all the lords, 
prelates, and rich or well-to-do persons came, with 
extraordinary liberality, to the assistance of the 
poor ; but soon wo all suffered alike. The wheat 
failing, we ate oats in bread and in broth ; on the 
butchers’ stalls was sold only the flesh of horses 
and dogs, and the poor pulled up the grass which 
grew up through the pavement, and boiled it. All 
around us was a frightful scene of misery, disease, 
and want ; but, nobles and citizens, rich and poor, 
w^e preferred to die rather than give up the city to 
a heretical prince, and the kingdom to the errors 
of Calvin. The martyrdom of hunger,” said we 
to our wives and children, is no less meritorious 
than that of the sword ! ” 


The Old Chest. 


133 


Tlio siege lasted till tlie 30tli of August, and v/as 
a memorable example. I bad risked my goods to 
buy at a high price the church silver, which the 
pastors had sold to distribute the price thereof to 
the poor people, and my fortune never recovered 
after that great effort ; but I esteem them well 
risked and well sacrificed, for the safety of religion 
and the relief of the poor of Jesus Christ. 

The constancy of the Parisians, 'imitated by the 
inhabitants of Rouen, bore its fruits, and opened 
the eyes of the King of Navarre. He abjured his 
errors on the 25th of July, in the year 1593. Six 
months after he was consecrated King of France^' . 
and on the 22d of March, 1594, he made his solemn 
entry into Paris, which had now won its King to 
the faith of his fathers, to the faith of Clovis, of 
Charlemagne, and of Saint Louis, so that the Most 
Christian Kingdom might always remain the first 
amongst nations, whose throne, like that of Saint 
Peter, has never been profaned by heresy. 

So ended the religious wars, whose most bloody 
scenes I witnessed. I lost in them two beloved 
brothers, and a great portion of my wealth. Often 
the young people, the wags of my quarter, mock at 
me, and call me the Old Leagwer. But God knew 
my intention and my love for Ins law, and it is to 
his justice that I appeal from the vain accusations 
of men. 

May those who come after us also do their duty, 
and support the monarchy in the right way of truth 
and of faith ! 



XIIL 

THE TKEASURY-CLEKK — SEVEHTEEHTH CEHTUKY. 

Sixty years have j)assed since tlie Old Leaguer 
recorded the troubles of the times in which he 
lived. My father, who as a citizen of Paris took 
active part in the Fronde, wrote nothing, content- 
ing himself with acting in favor of the Parliament 
against Mazarin. He had a lively recollection of 
the times in which he lived, and spoke of them 
willingly, and many times have I heard him relate 
how he had witnessed the great popular movement 
provoked by the arrest of Counsellor Broussel : tu- 
mult and rebellion spreading through the populous 
districts of Paris as far as the Palais Royal ; Mar- 
shal de la Meilleraie, sent to chastise the people, 
was nearly put to death by the infuriate crowd ; 
the coadjutor of Gandy, in surplice and cope, kneel- 
ing in the stream, hearing the confession of a man 
whom Marshal de la Meilleraie had just shot down, 
and by this ready act of humility calming the mul- 
titude, and seizing the marshal by both hands, to 
bring him to the Queen and to the cardinal. He 
had witnessed the barricades, the siege of Paris, and 
the flight at the Saint Antoine gate ; and after 
having condemned, like every one else, he also ap- 
plauded the return of the young King to Paris ; and 
after having cried, Down with Mazarin ! ” he cried 



The Old Chest. 


135 


out just as loudly, “Long live the cardinal As 
his office of court-jeweller put him in connection 
with many important persons, he got me into the 
treasury department, which was then under the 
control of Messire Nicholas Fouquet. There I ad- 
vanced rapidly enough, and soon, being initiated 
into some of the secrets of that great administra- 
tion, I became convinced that the Marquis d’Ef- 
liat spoke truly when he compared trea'surers and 
receivers-general to the “ cuttle-fish, which has the 
art of stirring up the water to deceive the eyes of 
the attentive fisherman.” What piercing eyes must 
he have had to discern anything in the dark and 
muddy waters in which the receipts and expenses 
were tossed about ! After the cruel disasters of the 
Leagne, the religious wars, the prodigality of the 
Valois princes to their favorites, a sterling minister. 
Sully, was found, who, by encouraging agriculture 
and commerce, had repaired in twelve years the 
disasters of half a century. “ Tillage and pastur- 
age,” said this able man, “are the two sources from 
which France is nourished, the true Peruvian mines 
and treasures.” 

But, when the father of the family was no more, 
when Henry had perished by the knife of Eavaillac, 
and when Concini had replaced Sully in the state, 
the water was again troubled. However, Provi- 
dence, favorable to empires, permitted that the 
great Cardinal Richelieu should restore financial 
order, control with a strong hand the Huguenots 
and the great lords, and bequeath to his successor, 
Mazarin, a kingdom at once rich and powerful. 
But the regency, the Fronde, the ministry of Ma- 
zarin, once more disturbed the equilibrium ; the 


13 ^ 


The Old Chest, 


public reyenucs were mortgaged for three years, the 
people underwent frightful miseries, for the cardi- 
nal had given fifty millions to his family, and the 
Superintendent Touquet built a mansion at Vaux 
whose splendor eclipsed that of the royal residences. 
Like a king, he, gave pensions to particular persons ; 
he had men at his beck in all the provinces, who 
gave him an account of j)ublic affairs, and whom he 
made, by immense bribes, devoted followers. 

It was evident to all that the superintendent w^as 
spending sums wdthout any proportion to his fortune 
or to the revenues of his office.^ But who would 
have dared to disturb this powerful and formidable 
man, who was accountable to the King alone ? 

In the functions of my office, I acquired proof of 
a base transaction, which was to profit only Bou- 
quet and some of the followers whom ho gorged at 
the expense of the King and the country, and I 
ventured in the first heat of indignation to speak 
of it openly. The report of this reached the ears 
of the superintendent ; he sent for me to his office, 
and received me with the affability which, apart 
from his wealth, won all hearts to him. 

‘^You have been imprudent,’’ said he, ‘^in 
speaking to your associates, or even to your most 
intimate friends, of the condition of j)ublic affairs, 
and I would have reason to complain of you since 
my name was mixed up in your discourse. You 
cannot deny it ? ” 

Kor is such my intention,” answered I. I do 
not conceal it, my lord ; the traffic which is going 
on around us has shocked me, and I could not be 
silent with regard to it. If it is a crime, punish 
me for it.” 


The Old Chest. 


137 


I could do so, perhaps ; but a faithful servant 
of the King does not deserve bad treatment. The 
treasury, it is true, is in a deplorable condition. 
The state is overrun with debt ; but yet neither the 
interests of war nor the diplomatic relations are 
endangered for an instant for want of money, for 
individuals who will not lend to the state will lend 
to me.” 

I dared not reply ; but I remembered some usu- 
rious interest which the state was paying on these 
loans made to the superintendent. He con- 
tinued : 

I do not fear enemies,” said he. “ In a posi- 
tion like mine they are not to be feared ; but I like 
to make friends for myself, and I wish you to be ^ 
among the number. I have noticed you ; your ad- 
vancement shall be rapid, your fortune sure, I will 
guarantee ; but, in my turn, I desire a pledge of 
your fidelity.” 

And what is that, my lord ? ” 

Some persons to whom I have done a service, 
and who were grateful to me, have signed, without 
my asking it, engagements * . . something 

like this.” 

So saying, the superintendent opened a casket, 
drew out a paper, and read the first lines, which I 
give here : 

I promise and pledge my faith to my lord the 
Procurator-General, Superintendent of the Fin- 
ances, and Minister of State, to never to belong to 
any one but him, to whom I give and attach myself 
to the last degree, and I promise to serve him gene- 
rally against all persons without exception, and to 


138 


The Old Chest. 


obey him alone, even in so far as to have no con- 
nection v’ith those to whom he objects/’* 

He went no further. 

To sign such a document, sir,” exclaimed I, 
‘^is treason to the state ! I have heard enough.” 
Fouquet regarded me with a sinister glance. 

Would you be capable of betraying mo ? ” said 
he. Beware ; you are nothing. I can either load 
you with honors and favors, or leave you to die, un- 
known and forgotten, in the depth of some Bastile. 
Those better born than you have joined there long 
before death came to deliver them.” 

Hearing him speak thus, I remembered the Gos- 
pel, and I thought of the tempter, the enemy of 
man, who was offering me earthly dignities as the 
price of my degi’adation. I am only an obscure 
citizen, but my heart felt for the sufferings, the 
tears, the blood of the people, which would have to 
pay for this fortune that he offered me, and my 
conscience withheld me, by its pleadings, from all 
participation in these mysteries of shame and cor- 
rigption. 

do ngt fear you!” said I; ‘Hess, perhaps, 
than you fear me. An accusation of peculation 
■ might bring even a minister of state to the Place 
de Grève. . . . Remember Sambalnçai, re- 

member Concini ! When the King knows to what 
an extent he has been deceived, his wrath will be 
fearful, his justice terrible !” 

*Two documents drawn up in these terms, and signed, one 
by Deslandes, Governor of Concarneau, the other by President 
Marialor, were found amongst Superintendent Fouquet’s pa- 
pers. See “Nicholas Fouquet,” by Fierro Clement (in the 
Collection of the Correspondent for the year 1845 ”). 


The Old Chest. 


139 

I went out, he not daring to stop me ; and, with- 
out loss of any time I repaired to Mr. Colbert, then 
Commissioner of Finances, and who had been for 
some time my friend and protector. I revealed to 
him what had passed ; I gave him the evident 
proofs of the defalcation of which I accused the 
superintendent. 

He reflected for a long time, and at length 
answered : 

""I am under obligations to the superintendent, 
and I think I have proved to him my gratitude by 
urging him to renounce operations so dangerous to 
his own honor and injurious to the interests of the 
King and the state ; he would not listen to me ; 
waste and pillage have continued their course; I 
have broken off my connection with him. God is 
my witness, I have no desire to ruin him or to raise 
myself through his downfall ; but I have, above all, 
at heart the good of the King, the safety of the 
state, the relief of the poor people, and what you 
have just told me will make the cup which is 
already full overflow. I tell you in confidence, the 
King is tired of all that is going on ; he knows the 
falsity, of the financial reports which Fouquet places 
before his eyes every month, and before long his 
justice will burst upon him. As for you, you have 
nothing to fear. Keep quiet and wait.” 

I waited accordingly, and I was a witness of that 
great catastrophe which caused so much excitement 
in the court and in the city. The Session of the 
Breton States obliged the King to make a journey 
into Kantes; the superintendent followed him. 
The rumor of his disgrace began to get abroad ; he 
alone, notwithstanding the warnings of his friends, 


140 


The Old Chest. 


remained increduloug. lie "vvas working with the 
King as usual, and thought himself secure cf Lis 
fayor, when M. D’Artagnan, captain of musket- 
eers, made him prisoner in the King's name, r.nd 
brought him to the Castle of Angers, amid the 
threats and imprecations of the crowd. The seals 
were put on his papers, his family was banished 
from court, and his trial immediately began. The 
first count of the indictment was : 

That Fouquet was accused, 1st, of having written 
a plan of what his relatives and friends should do 
for him in case he was oppressed. 

2d. Of having fortified his castle of Belle Isle, 
and placed cannon therein. 

3d. Of having had the government of Concar- 
neau. 

4th. Of having received the written contract of 
various persons pledging themselves to be absolutely 
devoted to his interests. 

5th. Of having made supposed loans without 
necessity, so as to be entitled to draw interest. 

Gth. Of having made advances to the King of 
money, which was against the rules, being himself 
director. 

'7th. Of having mixed the King’s money with his 
own, and used it for his domestic purposes. 

8th. Of being interested in farms and leases, 
under assumed names, and of having acquired the 
goods and property of the King at low prices. 

9th. Of having taken pensions and bribes from 
farmers and speculators, to let them have farms 
and leases at lower prices. 

10th. It was finally alleged that his administra- 
tion had been ruinous, that he had made treaties 


The Old Chest. 


141 

to the disadvantage of Ihe King, and had applied 
the funds to bad pur])Oses.^' 

I was present at the debates on this celebrated 
affair; I saw the superintendent, great and cour- 
ageous in misfortune, more worthy of esteem amid 
his reverses than in the height of his brilliant pros- 
perity, appearing before the Parliament, one of 
whose first offices he had once filled ; I heard him 
defend himself with precision and firmness, but his 
eloquence failed to convince judges who were en- 
lightened by facts y/hich spoke louder than words ; 
I heard his sentence of banishment for life, which 
was changed by the King to perpetual imprison- 
ment. It was soon known that D’Artagnan had 
taken his prisoner to Pignerol ; for a few months 
the superintendent was still spoken of ; ho was the 
subject of conversation and of anxiety amongst his 
friends; then oblivion slowly wove its veil over that 
once celebrated memory ; and when, at the end of 
seventeen years, in 1680, Fouquet died in the prison 
which he had never left, the event was scarcely 
noticed ; his former friends, servants, and followers 
had almost forgotten that the superintendent had 
ever lived. 

The post which he had left vacant was worthily 
filled by Mr. Colbert, that great minister whoso in- 
tegrity repaired the financial disasters of Mazarin 
and Fouquet. Placed under his orders, I had an 
opportunity of seeing how irreproachable conduct 
is conducive to success. He owed all to his merit, 
and nothing to his birth, for he was the son of a 

* Historical defalcations, abuse of public money, plan of a 
civil war, these aro the heads of the accusations agaijist Fou- 
quet, which justified his condemnation. 


142 


The Old Chest. 


merchant of Eheims; and he himself, to keep down 
his children’s pride, often reminded them of tlieir 
origin, adding that God had blessed his labor, but 
that his labor had been excessive. Moreover, the 
glorious reign of Louis XIV., whilst keeping the. 
nobility in command of armies and in the honors 
of the court, gave employment in the revenue de- 
partments and in courts of justice to men of citizen 
birth, provided that they possessed merit and ability. 
Such was the lot of Colbert ; and connected with 
the people by his origin, he remembered his suffer- 
ings. He reduced the taxes which weighed especi- 
ally on the poor i:)eoplc of the rural districts ; he 
obtained from the King severe edicts against 
usurers ; all the pastors of Paris read at the sermon 
a warning : Making it an obligation to denounce 
certain persons who had and retained several sums 
of money belonging to the King, Avho had obtained 
loads of straw, hay, and oats, and a great deal of 
game and fish, which, their houses being provided, 
they had sold for much moneys all being tax-payers, 
to lessen their taxes ; who had made use of false 
weights to weigh gold crowns, and who had drawn 
up false documents.” 

These severe measures had their effect ; great 
scandals met with exemplary punishment ; one 
hundred millions returned to the coffers of the 
state, public anger was appeased, and the lowest 
peasant in France knew that the King and the first 
minister would, in any contingency, do justice to 
his rights. Soon negotiation and commerce saw 
new worlds opening before them. The King, ad- 
vised by Colbert, protected the growing colony of 
San Domingo, sought to found one at Madagascar, 


The Old Chest. 


Ï43 


and created the celebrated East India Company, in 
imitation of the United Proyinces, ndiich, combin- 
ing the labor and capital of some individuals, be- 
came mistress of the spice trade, and possessed 
numerous establishments in all the Indian Archi- 
pelago. Extending commerce abroad, encouraging 
the increase of the navy, Colbert also busied hims^clf 
with means of communication in the interior of the 
kingdom. Ho commenced the Languedoc Canal, 
which was to connect the two seas ; he established 
manufactories at Arras, at Eheims, at Louviers, at 
Sedan, at Quesnoy, at Alençon ; ho founded a glass 
manufactory at Paris ; ho protected the Journal des 
Savants; he brought from Italy the celebrated 
architect Bernini to direct the King’s buildings ; 
ho commenced the new Louvre, and finished the 
Observatory. 

Happy were it for the King if he had known the 
happiness and glory of peace ! Buta young and pow- 
erful monarch desires other renown. Ho obtained 
it ; victory lavished her favors upon him ; Franche- 
Coînte, conquered in a fortnight by the arms of the 
Prince of Condo, offered to the King the first de- 
lusive fruits of those long wars in which he was to 
consume his life, the gold, and the blood of his peo- 
ple. For twenty years this powerful Franco sus- 
tained incessant war, ha^dng always men and money 
to give to the King. For twenty years the glory 
was great ; the state and the King shone with ex- 
traordinary lustre. But, in the eyes of wise men, 
terrible reverses must follow this too enviable pros- 
perity. For twenty years an obscure clerk of that 
great minister whoso memory is so dear to me, I 
witnessed his zeal for the public good — his prodigi- 


144 


The Old Chest, 


ous labors, his strict integrity; I saw him give to 
all the details of an immense administration con- 
tinual and vigilant attention ; I saw him seek to 
communicate to his sons the sentiments with 
which he was animated for the King and country ; 
insensible to satire, deaf to threats, concealing un- 
der a phlegmatic exterior a natural impetuosity, 
and advancing to his end, discharging his duty, 
notwithstanding cabals and opposition. Yet, firm 
as was his will, he knew how to consult good faith 
and follow a wise counsel. I shall cite a single ex- 
ample of which I v/as a witness ; I could give a 
thousand others under his ministry. The garden of 
the Tuileries was renovated after the design of Le 
Notre ; and, when it was finished, M. Colbert said 
to me one day : ‘‘Let us go to the Tuileries to sec 
about the gates ; that garden must be kept for the 
King, and v/e cannot let it be destroyed by the peo- 
ple, who, in less than no time, will have it entirely 
spoiled.*’ This proposal pained me somewhat ; be- 
ing a child of Paris, 1 knew the fondness of Pari- 
sians for this garden ; I knew that it would be for 
them a most vexatious privation, and one which 
would excite general discontent. 

Having reached the grand alley, I told the minister, 
as cautiously as I could, that no one could believe 
the respect Avhich every one, even to the lowest citi- 
zen, felt for that garden ; that not even the women 
and little children would over pluck a flower, nor 
even touch one, as the gardeners could testify, and 
that it would be a public affliction not to be allowed 
to go there any more. 

“Undoubtedly, my lord,” I added, “the garden 


The Old Chest. 


145 

of our kings is so large, only tliat all tlieir cliildren 
may walk in it 

At these words, the minister’s stern face relaxed, 
and it was decided that the Tuileries should remain 
open to the publie. This was really joy to me ; 
and, when I grew old, and went to seek there a lit- 
tle sunlight, the joyous voices of the passers-by and 
the little children made my heart young again, and 
brought back to me the memory of the great man 
with whom I had formerly trod these alleys, and 
who, at my entreaty, was pleased to preserve it for 
the people. 

Brilliant as was the reign of Louis le Grand, 
with whatever splendor the throne was surrounded 
by the talents of generals, statesmen, poets, and 
orators, under this external glory, as at the bottom 
of all human things, was sadness and bitterness. 

- Colbert had found in the Secretary of War, Lou vois, 
a secret but implacable enemy, who, seconding the 
warlike ambition of the King, dealt to finances, 
and consequently to the upright minister who con- 
trolled them, a fatal blow. For twenty years France 
had no other enemies than those which she made in 
sport; but, to carry on these glorious but ruinous 
wars, the state consumed all that was most pre- 
cious— the blood and gold of the nobility and of the 
people. 

One day I saw M. Colbert gloomy and sad. I 
ventured to question him. 

^^The King,” said he, ^‘has just asked of me six- 
ty millions for the extraordinary expenses of war. 
Alarmed at such a sum, I answered that I did not 
think I could furnish means for such expenditure. 

^ Think over it,’ immediately answered the King ; 


The Old Chest. 


146 

‘ some one else will undertake to supply it, if you 
are not willing to do so.’* 

• “ That will be/’ continued the minister, the 
last blow dealt to France ; the dearest interests of 
the state will be sacrificed to a whim of ambition, 
and, as for me, my enemies will ruin me ; by urging 
the King to war and taxes, they will destroy my 
work, and force me to leave the council.” . . . 

He walked about in deep thought, and repeating 
in a low voice these verses, which the poet Hcmault 
. had addressed to him after the condemnation of 
Fouquet : 

“ His fall som3 day may be thy own, . . 

Fear thy post, rank, court, and fortune.” . . 

I dared not speak, but I trembled for my master 
and friend. From that day he became still more 
serious. Whilst formerly he might be seen going 
about his work, rubbing his hands gleefully, since 
that event he worked with a sorrowful and dejected 
air. The ascendency of Louvois increased every 
day, and, whilst encouraging the King’s taste for 
war and perilous enterprises, he hastened the ruin 
of the country, and hurried his rival into the grave. 
After a stormy interview with the King, M. Colbert 
returned home, and took to bed, whence he never 
rose. It was from that bed of suffering that he 
estimated truly the greatness of this world ; ho 
wished to think of nothing but his salvation, re- 
peating frequently, ‘^If I had done for God what I 
have done for the King, I might have twice saved 
my soul, and now I know not what will become 
of mo ! ” 


* All these details are historical. 


The Old Chest. 


147 


He died in tlie arms of Father Bourdaloue, 
disgusted with the things of earth, which he had 
seen too closely, and hoping only to find rest and 
mercy with the Lord. 

I mourned this great man with a bitterness the 
more lively that I saw him misunderstood by those 
whom he had best served — the people and the 
King. He had ended his noble life, convinced of 
general ingratitude, and he was followed even be- 
yond the grave by the insults of rhymers and libel- 
lers. If he could have foreseen the lamentable dis- 
tress into which France was plunged by wars, which 
became more and more disastrous by want, by the 
ruin of the public funds, by the exhaustion of the 
vital strength of the country, he would have felt 
still greater anguish in death. A fearful struggle, 
a struggle of ten years against the whole of Europe, 
victories, but burdensome victories, since they re- 
sulted in the treaty of Eyswick, by which the con- 
quests made by Louis the Great were restored to 
its enemies, this struggle had ill prepared France 
for the Spanish war of succession, heart-rending 
calamities of which we see to-day. Lonely and old 
amongst a new generation, I recall the first splen- 
dors which marked the dawning of the reign of 
Louis ; I recall the prosperity which the wise Col- 
bert spread around him ; I recall the glory which ^ 
Turenne, Oonde, Orequi, Luxembourg, Duquesne, 
Tourville, had brought to the French arms. These 
great men are no more, and their successors, men 
of a new age, seemed to have degenerated and to bo 
of a nature less noble and less great. I remember, 
but the King must also remember ! — he who alone 
remains of all his family, with only a child in the 


The Old Chest. 


148 

cradle. This seyere and penetrating glance should 
take in thexalaraities which the future reserves for 
our descendants : the misery of the people, the 
grumbling and discontent of the citizens, the dark 
impiety which is increasing every day, the weak- 
ness of the army, the confusion of the finances, the 
national character weakened and debased, the con- 
tempt of glorious deeds, the love of good living 
and pleasure, the monarchy about to fall into the 
hands of a child, under the regency of the Duke 
de Maine, unpopular by his birth, or under that of 
a Duke of Orleans, to be feared from his known 
defects as well as from his hidden vices. . . . 

I shall not seé these misfortunes : I am almost at 
the end of a long career, during which I have tried 
to serve my country, in the humble sphere to which 
I was called by my birth ; I fulfilled my task with 
honor and integrity ; but, whilst peacefully quitting, 
this life, I tremble for those who shall come after 
us. We have sown the whirlwind, they shall reap 
the storm ; and the disasters which our wars and 
disorders have prepared for them can only be avert- 
ed by the hand of Pro\ddence. 

0 God, Eternal Providence, watch over France, 
watch over the dauphin, soon to be King, the dear 
and last flower of so fair a stem ! 



XIV. 

PHILOSOPHY — EIGHTEEÎ^TH CEHTUEY.> 

My Yenerable grandfather, a man of sense and 
judgment, had foreseen the misfortunes which 
overwhelm us in the present and threaten us in the 
future. But, whatever might he his judgment, 
enlightened hy a long life and by the experience of 
men and things, he could not foresee the torrent of 
evils which licentiousness and impiety have brought 
upon France, and into the interior of families. 
God has withdrawn himself from us, or, to better 
express it, we have rejected him. . . , Every 

day ho is insulted and blasphemed, his divine com- 
mandments violated ; there are to be found amongst 
113 men, and men honored by all, who have sworn 
v/ar against God, who would crush the infamous.*^ 
France is to-day, through its writers, the enemy of 
tlio Lord, the standard-bearer of atheism — in other 
ATords, France is lost ; for who has resisted the 
Lord and found peace ? 

We were two brothers, brought up alike, under 
the care of most tender parents, with the same 
destiny before us ; but our dispositions were widely 
different. I sought only a hidden, retired life ; I 

* “Ecraser Finfame,” the famous expression of Voltaire ia 
reference £o our Divine Saviour. 

149 


The Old Chest. 


150 

liad no ambition for any other than domestic joys ; 
my desires and attachments -went no farther than 
the hearth round which the family assembled ; and 
I wished for nothing more here below than to be 
happy, as my father had been, by honest labor, to 
find a wife like my mother, and to have one day 
children who would love me as I love my parents. 
1 have little to say of myself, for I have been happy 
with the happiness which I sought ; my position 
as a notary has amply provided for all my wants, 
and given me employment in accordance with my 
tastes. I married a wife after my own heart, and 
she made me father of two daughters, who gave 
promise of merit and virtue. 

My brother Louis from his childhood showed am- 
bition, love of display, and of enjoyment ; the dis- 
tinctions which laws and customs had established 
between men irritated him ; a lord of the court ap- 
peared to him of all beings the most enviable ; he 
did not disdain the lot of a simple gentleman, on 
v/hom his birth conferred the ^laco of honor in 
church and many other privileges ; to rule was his 
dream ; and finding himself, by birth, confounded 
with the immense multitude of good and honest 
citizens, he wished at least to acquire, by means of 
fortune, the supremacy which he coveted. lie 
connected himself with financiers, he took part in 
tlicir speculations, he conducted his own with much 
skill ; and, at the age of thirty-five, being master 
of a large fortune, he obtained the farmer-general- 
ship of salt works, and he married the daughter of 
a leading financier. 

This marriage and office gave my brother an en- 
tirely new position, which removed him from me. 


The Old Chest. 


151 

from our connections, and the ojd friends of our 
family. He liyed in the Faubourg Saint-Honore, 
in a largo mansion, resplendent with crystals, mir- 
rors, and gildings, and enriched with tho choicest 
v/orks of Boucher, Coypel, Lancrct, and Bouchar- 
don. A numerous retinue of servants filled the 
ante-chambcrs ; Madame Duchaisne’s drawing- 
room, glittering with pictures, mirrors, and bronzes, 
was finer than those of tho court ladies ; her horses, 
her dress, her diamonds, were the envy of the most 
wealthy ladies ; my brother gathered every day 
around his table numerous guests, titled men, 
ladies of fashion, bankers, and, let me add, those 
wits, men of letters, whose writings were stirring 
not only France, but Europe. 

The public voice gave such accounts of the 
riches, tho magnificent life, and brilliant connec- 
tions of my mother, that it seemed to us, humble 
citizens, a fairy tale, a fable of tho Thousand 
and One hTights.^’ My wife was astonished, my 
daughters opened their eyes very wide at hearing 
of these marvels of wealth and luxury ; my good 
wife sometimes added : How happy they are ; 
how much good they can do !” But, as for me, I 
found in these descriptions, in these accounts, many 
reasons for trouble and anxiety. I loved my brother, 
though circumstances had separated mo from him, 
and I learned with deep sorrow his intimate con- 
nection with those who were called philosophers, 
encyclopædists. I knew their works, and I knew 
in what danger they were hurrying the family and 
the monarchy. I thought I saw in their intimate 
connection a sinister conspiracy against all the laws 
which are the foundation of society. Religion at- 


152 


The Old Chest. 


tacked, and consequently morality destroyed, give 
glimpses of a very gloomy future ; and it was these 
vile enemies of God, these dangerous enemies of 
the state, these cruel enemies of humanity, that my 
brother gathered round his table, whose Mæcenas 
ho made himself, for it was said he repaid their 
flatteries with gold ! 

The Encylopædia was at once the means and the 
j)retcxt of which they made use to spread their opi- 
nions and conceal their designs ; it appeared to be 
only a laborious and purely literary work ; but wise 
and religious men became alarmed at seeing the 
names of the leaders of the enterprise. Soon there 
appeared, simultaneously with the Encyclopædia, a 
vast number of satires against priests, religious, and 
the authorities, and a multitude of impious and 
licentious pamphlets, which, being spread through- 
out all classes, speaking a language too easy to un- 
derstand, and within the reach of every mind, cor- 
rupted even the women and children who had 
scarcely left the school-bench. The great lords, 
flattered in their passions, the citizens in their pre- 
judices, became the support of those who seek to 
overthrov/ the throne, cast opprobrium on the altar, 
and who are hurrying us all tov/ards an abyss to 
which advisers of the monarchy are blindly lead- 
ing us. , . . 0 unhappy France ! 

I see, by the examples all around mo, the evil 
which the so-called philosophers arc doing and Avill 
do ; as for the good, I honestly perceive none. I 
sec that in attacking religion they destroy morali- 
ty ; that they shake the respect duo to supreme 
authority, whilst flattering the foibles of the mon- 
arch ; I see that the national character is v/eakened. 


The Old Chest, 


153 


that the French mind is debased, that there is no 
more belief in God ; I see licentiousness and corrup- 
tion, which are carrying us on towards an unknown 
but terrible future. Such is the end of a communi- 
ty when God withdraws himself from it. . . . 

My brother invited me to a supper which he was 
giving to his brilliant friends, and, yielding to his 
entreaties, I went to it. 

The recollection of that evening long pursued 
me. I met in thoge magnificent salons around that 
table, on which appeared the works of the best 
Parisian cook, a numerous assembly and a com- 
plete academy. Of the men of the court, M. De 
Schomberg, an ardent admirer of Voltaire’s poetry ; 
M. De Tressan, the author of some agreeable 
writings taken from old fables ; the Count de 
Jaucourt, who was taking part in the Encyclo- 
pædia ; then, Diderot, whose pathos and extrava- 
gance astonished me ; Helvetius, celebrated for a 
rather ordinary work ; the cold Abbé Morellet, 
Raynal, D’Alembert ; some young women, their ad- 
mirers, and some financiers, friends of my bro- 
ther, completed the company. Finding themselves 
amongst intimate associates (for I was of no ac- 
count there), they spoke freely; my brother even 
boasted of having assembled at that dinner the elite 
of the philosophers, that is to say, atheists, and to 
have admitted only one deist, the Abbé Morellet. 

'' Atheists and deists tend to the same thing,” 
observed Raynal — ^^the regeneration of thediuman 
kind.” 

The destruction of the temple of error,” added 
D’Alembert. 

Ô happy day ! golden age I” exclaimed Diderot, 


154 


The Old Chest. 


‘^when mankind shall be freed from its chains, 
and rid of princes, priests, of worship, and of re- 
ligions prejudices ! It is in the workshop of sorrow 
that unfortunate man has fashioned the phantom 
which he has made his God. . . . The same 

cause has formed his tyrants and his slavery. Phi- 
losophy, the true friend of man, comes to his aid, 
and encourages him to break the yoke of botli one 
and the other. May I see that day ! 

‘ And with the guts of the last priect 
See the last king strangled. ’ ” 

Bravo! bravo!” cried my wretched brother. 

These are new ideas and daring sentiments. But 
let us speak of the Encyclopædia ; you know, gen- 
tlemen, that I am interested in it.” 

“ You surely have good right, my dear Dii- 
chaisne,” answered Helvetius ; and, if the name 
of Mæcenas has come down to posterity, yours shall 
be also blessed by your descendants. You support 
this groat work, the immortal enterprise of this 
age of reason and enlightenment, and which shall 
have, above all others, the merit of having forever 
annihilated superstition.” 

Therefore,” continued Diderot, ^^must we not 
yield to the bawling of priests and bigots. Let us 
lie, let us lie, my friends I It is the patriarch who 
recommends it to us, and we shall put down pre- 
judices.” 

“We are stifled with prejudices,” answered Hel- 
vetins; “ they choke us from our very infancy by 


'•'An expression of Voltaire’s, often repeated in his corre- 
spondence. 


The Old Chest. 


Ï55 


the names of son, brother, Imsband, father. . . . 

All these ties of father and child are injurious to 
those of citizen, and. ]3roduce yice under the ap- 
pearance of yirtue ; little communities whose inter- 
ests are almost always opposed "to the public inter- 
ests would eventually extinguish in souls every 
spark of love of country. The people cannot be 
freed from these calamities but by breaking all 
bonds of relationship, and declaring their children 
citizens of the state. This is the only means of 
putting down vice. . . . Moreover, every spe- 

cies of dependence being unjust, the son depends 
no more on the father than the latter on his otf- 
spring.”"^' 

At these words I looked at my brother. He was 
applauding. 

The conversation continued in this strain ; I Avas 
at last forced to speak out, and I had at least the 
consolation of sustaining the cause of eternal jus- 
tice and of outraged morality. I Avas ansAvered by 
stale jokes ; my brother seemed ill at ease ; he 
changed the conversation. They spoke of litera- 
ture, praise and applause bandied about amongst 
themselves, whilst criticising scA^erely the most es- 
timable authors, such as M. He Pompignan, the 
Abbe Guénée, J. B. Eousseau,f Avho had devoted 
their talents to another cause. I listened for a full 
hour to cruel slanders, to infamous calumnies, scan- 
dalous anecdotes, Avhich convulsed with laughter 
even the young Avomen, unhappy pupils of irréligion 
and licentiousness, and I felt as if delivered from 

* Helvetiiis, ‘ ‘ De l’Esprit. ’’ 

f J. B. Rousseau must not bo coufounded with the infidel 
writer, Jean Jacques. 


156 


The Old Chest. 


cruel torture when I could leave the select assembly, 
in which I found myself so complete a stranger. 

Next day I had an explanation with my brother, 
which left us both in our own ideas. 

And you will bring up your children in the 
principles of your philosophers asked I at 
length. 

“Such is my intention,’’ answered he. “They 
shall learn to read in the writings of Jean Jacques.” 

“ And to honor you according to the maxims of 
Helvetius ! ” 

I did not, however, break with my poor brother ; 
returned to my old ways and my happiness, I again 
sought to enlighten him ; but all my efforts were 
vain. The flattery of his parasites had turned his 
head ; and the rich financier thought himself a man 
of genius, since he had received a letter dated Fer- 
ney, and written by the patriarch’s own hand. 

The years, in passing, did not bring us together ; 
but I thought I could perceive, on the rare occa- 
sions when we met, that my brother seemed sad, 
and had other cares than those which years in their 
flight are wont to bring. His fortune, however, was 
still brilliant, his house frequented ; he had just 
married his daughter Felicie to the Baron de Pont ; 
his son Edmond, he told me, was distinguishing 
himself by his literary talents, and had recently pub- 
lished three pamphlets, “ The Ifs,” “ The Whens,” 
“The Wherefores,” which were making a sensation in 
the philosophical world. His third son, Henri, w^as 
a man of fashion, whose adventures were much 
talked of. My poor brother told me of his sons’ 
feats with a gratified smile of paternal vanity ; ho 
congratulated himself on having one son an infidel. 


The Old Chest. 


157 


another a libertine, and lie seemed as if ex])ecting 
that I would add my praise to that which he lav- 
ished on them, 

^‘^Are yon satisfied with their conduct tov/ards 
yon ?” said I to him. ‘‘Amidst so many tempta- 
tions, are they good sons ?” 

We see them but little ; they are young. . ’. . 
What would you have ? Youth must pass.” . . . 
He sighed. 

“And your daughter, for whom you have made 
such a brilliant marriage ? ” 

Ho did not answer ; and I thought I could see 
that the ingratitude of this beloved daughter was 
the arrow which pierced his heart. Oh 1 how 1 1 
blessed my lot on returning home, amongst my at- 
tentive and respectful children, who had found in 
the law of God the confirmation of the first senti- 
ment awakened in the depth of their hearts, and 
who loved me the more that in loving me they 
■were honoring God, whom I had taught them to 
glorify and to love above all things ! 

Shortly after this interview with my brother, Î 
learned that his son Henri was dangerously ill, in 
consequence of a supper, or rather carousal, which 
had taken place at the Palais Poyal, I thought it 
my duty to bring to my brother the consolations of 
our old affection. I arrived at his mansion, which 
I found silent and gloomy ; I was conducted into a 
room which adjoined the sick-room ; and there I 
found my brother sitting, his head buried in his 
hands, absorbed in painful thought.' 

“ Is it you, my brother ? ” said he. “ You do not 
shun a house of mourning ! You have heard . . . 
You know ... My poor son ! ” 


58 


The Old Chest. 


My dear Louis, youth lias many chances. Your 
son, I hope, will he restored to you.*’ 

“ I cannot flatter myself with such a hope. . . . 

Ho is doomed. ... I shall lose him, I aliall 
sec him no more ! 0 my dear Henri !” 

He gave full yent to his paternal sorrow, in which 
I sincerely shared. I wept with him, and I deplored 
the fate of this unhappy young man, who had lived 
a slave to his passions, and who was about to die 
an enemy to God. We were both silent and in tears, 
when the door oj^ened, and I saw a worthy priest, 
the pastor of the parish in which my brother lived, 
and known through all Paris for his zeal and apos- 
tolic charity. He saluted us, and, addressing Louis, 
said : 

Sir, I present myself again before you to offer 
you the services of my ministry for your son. I 
am your pastor, and God commands that I must 
not let one of the dear sheep of my flock perish un- 
aided. Will you deign to admit mo to the pre- 
sence of your son ? ” 

My brother reddened, and, in, a dejected tone, he 
answered : 

He refuses your visit, sir ; I j)roposod it to him. 
He wishes to die — ” 

As ho has lived I 0 unhappy boy ! ” 

^Œe has some prejudices . . .” 

His mind, poisoned by pernicious doctrines, 
hates the ministers of religion. . . . But there 
is yet time to convince him of his errors, . . . 
and to prove to him that there arc ho more sincere 
^ friends than the servants of Jesus Christ.” 

I do not wish to disturb him ! I wish his last 
hours to be peaceful.” ... 


The Old Chest. 


^59 

I interfered at these words. I urged my brother ; 
but it was in vain. lie still feared, besido the 
death-bed of his son, tho raillery of the wits, who 
did not wish that one of their number should back 
out’’; and, full of doubt in sight of tho dark abyss 
of Eternity, he sought to blind himself, and to 
sacrifice to the sarcasms of tho world that son whom 
ho nevertheless loved so tenderly. A blind obsti- 
nacy had possession of his mind, and neither my 
suggestions nor the charitable entreaties of the old 
priest could dispel it. The pastor withdrew, 
saying : 

If the patient desires to see mo, come, oh ! come 
at once. At whatever hour it may bo, call mo. 
. . . I am going to pray for him and for his 

mother.” . . . 

I remained with my brother ; but I could not 
obtain access to the patient. I spent the night at 
tho house, in tho midst of tho constant alarm ex- 
cited by tho imminent danger of the unfortunate 
young man. Towards morning, being alone in tho 
parlor, I heard a piercing cry which came from my 
nephew’s room. I ran in ; my brother, terrified, 
came tov/ards me, and murmured : 

He is dying !” And, so sayings fell senseless. 

My sister-in-law was stretched on the bed with a 
violent attack of hysterics. Whilst the servants 
cared for them, I ran to Henri’s bed. ... He 
was dying I His face had already tho fearful ex- 
pression vv^hich the death-agony gives. A cold 
sweat covered his forehead, and his glassy eyes 
looked with terror at the dark corners of tho room, 
as though he saw there frightful visions. He 
raised his feeble hand to his eyes, as if to shut 


i6o 


The Old Chest. 


out tlic objects which beset him. I took him in 
my arms. 

‘"My boy/’ said I, “think of God; repent of 
your faults!” 

“ Who speaks to me of God ? There is no God ! 
No, no, no !” 

“ There is one, and he awaits you ! 0 my clear 

boy ! but a moment remains to yon. Say, ‘ My 
God, I repent of having offended you ! My God, I 
love you ! ” 

“ I cannot ! I do not understand you !... 
Later ! Later ! ” 

I again urged him. I showed liim a crucifix 
which I carried about with me. He turned away 
his eyes, and said, with an expression of hor- 
ror : 

“ Do you see those figures that fill the room ? 
Put them out ; defend me !.. . After that, I 

will do what you wish. . . .” 

I made the sign of the cross over him, but his 
agitation continued. He hid his face. I uncover- 
ed it, and I implored him to pray with me. . . . 

“ Later ! ” answered he in a scarcely articulate voice. 
. . . I fell on my knees, and prayed fervently. 

The door opened. The priest whom I had sent 
for came in and hurried to the bedside. . . . 

My nephew tried to rise, wdth haggard eyes and 
terrified face, and he fell back, murmuring : 

“He is too late ! too late ! Oh ! save me.” 

“0 Lord! but thy judgments are terrible,” 
cried the priest. “ I have seen the impious, like 
unto the cedar of Lebanon. I passed, and it is no 
more. This is the punishment of a badly spent 
youth ! Unhappy child !” 


The Old Chest, 


i6r 


Unhappy father ! unhappy mother ! ” cried 1. 

What a punishment ! ’’ 

I left the priest in prayer beside those deplorable 
remains, and I went to my brother’s room. He was 
unconscious of his misfortune. He had been 
stricken with apoplexy, and was in his bed insen- 
sible. My sister-in-law, who had come to herself, 
gave vent to the bitterness of her maternal sorrow, 
with which deep remorse was mingled. 

^"He feared nothing,” said she to me, and he 
loved only pleasure. ... . He died a victim to 

our weakness, our blindness. . . . We have 

killed him ! Oh ! would to Heaven that we had 
been less indulgent to him ! Fatal indulgence ! it 
has led him into the abyss, and drags us there with 
him. 0 my dear Henri ! where are you ? What 
has become of you ? ” 

I spent that cruel day and the next with my sis- 
ter-in-law. My wife also came. My brother re- 
mained unconscious, in a state of utter helplessness. 
I then received bitter confidences. I could not ex- 
plain the absence of Edmond and of Félicie, at this 
fearful time, which left their mother alone over- 
whelmed by so many misfortunes. 

Alas ! brother,” said Madame Duchaisne, ‘*we 
do not see my daughter any more. . . . She is 

in the midst of the great world of pleasures, which 
are perhaps dangerous. She has given us up, she 
denies us. It is said that her husband plays a great 
game ... he is the intimate companion of 
the Duke d’Orleans ... he is leagued, it is 
said, against the court, against our good Queen. 

. . . All this is very afflicting. ... I see 

nothing in the future but ruin and disaster.” 


The Old Chest. 


162 

And my nephew, Edmond ? ” 

He is in England ; he is contemplating a phi- 
losophical work on the English constitution.” 

Very good. But are you satisfied with his con- 
duct and proceedings ? ” 

What shall I say, brother ? I sometimes think 
that Edmond finds us very much behind the age 
and very tiresome. . . . Still, you know, my 

husband has always supported the writers of the 
day and the new ideas ; he has spent two hundred 
thousand francs for the publication of the ^ Ency- 
clopædia’; ho has given pensions to the wits ; he 
had a philosopher as preceptor to our sons.” 

These words renewed her sorrow. I knew 
enough, and I saw that neglect, ingratitude, and 
impiety had left desolate the house of my unhapjoy 
brother. All that I learned by the conversation of 
my sister-in-law and by the j)ublic voice filled me 
with consternation. The Baron de Pont was, in 
fact, one of the most intimate members of those in- 
famous coteries of the Palais Eoyal, whence came 
forth every day calumnies and libels which every 
day attacked our chaste Queen and our young and 
virtuous King. Edmond lent his pen to this wick- 
edness, which was w^orthy of hell, which perhaps 
before long would cause to break out amongst the 
deceived people a bloody rebellion against the royal 
authority. The signs which are precursors of the 
storm are muttering around us ; prepared by the 
financial disasters, it will be consummated by phi- 
losophical writings. As for me, I shall not see 
them ; my life is near its close. My infirmities 
warn me to prepare to leave the earth, and render 
an account to God of so many graces, and so many 


! 


The Old Chest. 


163 


long years of existence, which he has granted me. 
But if I had not faith in the aid of Providence, I 
would die bringing with me to the grave the most 
lively anxiety as to the fate of my dear ones, whom 
I am going to leave in the midst of the storm. 



XV. 


THE POîsTTOOK-MAH OF EBLE» 

The earliest recollections whicli my memory re- 
tains are the following : my mother holding me hy 
the hand, and leading me through the streets of 
Paris, which were full of people, men in red coats 
and caps, women in short gowns, wearing on their 
heads large tricolored cockades. My mother was 
Tery pale, and, without knowing why, I was very 
much afraid. We arriyed before a vast building, 
and we stopped at an arched iron gate. Other per- 
sons were w^aiting like ourselves, and we could hear 
in the streets the voices of newsboys crying : Buy ! 
buy ! here is the list of the condemned.’’ 

The great door suddenly opened with a loud 
noise ; a heavy vehicle rolled under the arch, and 
passed before us. ... It was a large cart, on 
which stood some men bareheaded, their hair 
shaved, and their hands bound behind their back, 
and women also bound, and pressed close against 
each other. Gendarmes and soldiers guarded the 
carriage. My mother took me in her arms, held 
me up, and said in aloud voice : 

My child, say farewell to your father, who is 
going to die.” 

I looked, and saw on the cart a man who was 

leaning towards us, and whose face T recognized. 

1C4 


The Olçl Chest. 165 

Farewell ! ’’ cried he. Farewell, wife ! farewell, 
m y child !” 

He could say no more, the cart went on. . . . 

My mother’s arms unclasped, she had fainted. 
. . . Ho one took any heed of us ; she sat on a 

stone, pale and exhausted ; and, when the crowd 
had dispersed, she made a final effort, and regained 
our lodging, dragging herself along by the houses, 
supporting herself against the walls. She did not 
speak ; hut I remember that she became very 
red, and her eyes shone with a strange light. 
We thus reached our poor room on the fifth 
floor. Eue Culture-Sainte-Oatherine. There my 
mother fell into a chair, like a person over- 
come with fatigue ; and the day passed, 
and the hours of the night slipped by, and still she 
did not awake from the stupor into which she had 
fallen. I dared not speak nor stir. I thought my 
mother was asleep, and I was half dead wdth fear, 
fatigue, and hunger. Towards the middle of the 
next day a neighbor, who sometimes rendered some 
services to my mother, knocked at our door ; I 
opened it softly, making her a sign to make no 
noise. She approached, looked at my mother, took 
hër hand, and said : 

^^My poor child, your mamma is very sick !” 

The day passed thus ; the good neighbor did not 
leave us ; she made some tisane, but she dared not 
call in a physician. 

One does not know whom to trust,” said she to 
me. Your mamma has been rich, perhaps noble ; 
that would be seen at once, and the doctor would 
perhaps send her to prison. . . . There are so 

many bad people around us. . . 


i66 


TJic Old Chest. 


My mother seemed to he dying ; she recognized 
me, but she could not speak. Towards morning 
she made an effort, and said to our neighbor : 

‘^Go and bring Mr. Bluteau to me, he lives at 
the entresol f . . . tell him that the Widow 

Duchaisne would like to speak to him.” 

The neighbor obeyed ; she soon returned, follow- 
ed by an old man with white hair, very poorly clad. 
My mother clasped her hands on seeing him, and 
made him approach the bed ; the neighbor with- 
drew. I saw that my mother spoke in a low voice 
to Mr. Bluteau, that he listened attentively with a 
gentle and recollected air. She finished ; he said 
a few words, raised his right hand, and made the 
sign of the cross. . . . My mother’s face seem- 

ed peaceful and radiant ; she called mo, put my 
hand in that of the old man, and said : 

Father, I recommend this orphan to you.” 

I saw her fail back on her pillow, and become 
paler. ... I do not very well know what 
happened ; the old man took me with him into a 
very poor little room, where he lived alone. lie 
treated mo with much kindness, and I soon loved 
him tenderly, and cared for no one else. Mr. 
Bluteau received no one ; but he often went out, 
and I remarked that before going he knelt down 
and said a short prayer ; on returning, he would 
clasp me in his arms, saying : 

Let us thank God, my dear child ; he has saved 
me once more. . . .” 

I understood nothing of all this ; but I prayed 
to God, as my benefactor bade me do. Three years 


^ Lobby or small room between two stories. 


The Old Chest. 


167 

passed tlins ; I was then nine or ten years old, and 
I began to understand my position and that of the 
good old man who took sucli fatherly care of me. 
Mr. Blutean was a priest ; ho had been pastor of 
ono of the finest parishes in Paris, and, not wishing 
to abandon his flock in the midst of the storm, he 
had hidden himself, under a disguise, and at the 
peril of his life, which was risked many times in a 
day ; he used to go and celebrate Mass in the cel- 
lars, penetrate into the hospitals, and even into the 
prisons ; he confessed the dying and those con- 
demned ; and, in spite of his advanced age, he 
daily multiplied the prodigies of his charity and 
good works. My mother had known him in better 
days ; she had seen him again, when, stripped of 
her goods, fearing for my father’s life, she had 
reached the depth of misfortune ; she had called 
him in at her last moment, and to tfiis venerable 
priest she owed the only consolation which she 
could receive here below : the final absolution and 
the hope that I should not be forsaken. 

Mr. Bluteau instructed while he conversed with 
me ; and, when I had reached my eleventh year, 
he sometimes allowed me to accompany him in his 
apostolic visits, now less dangerous than when the 
guillotine arose in Paris, but which must still be 
accompanied with prudence and with secrecy. I 
remember one evening a woman covered with rags 
came to seek him, and said to him in a low voice a 
word which made him shudder. He immediately 
prepared to go out, and I begged him to let me go 
with him. 

Come ! ” said he, my child, and pray to God 
for the young patient whom we are going to see.” 


The Old Chest. 


1 68 

We set out, guided by the woman, who led us 
through one of the d.arkest streets adjoining the 
Palais de Justice; she brought us across a muddy 
alley and up a staircase, which seemed endless to 
me ; arrived at the top story, she opened a door, 
and introduced us into a kind of garret, where, on 
a miserable bed, lay a man who seemed very near 
death. The face of this man had a fearful ex- 
pression ; the blood which he had lost in a violent 
hæmorrhage had saturated his clothes, his arms, 
and his chest, and he pushed from him, with a 
feeble but furious hand, the blood-stained clothes, 
repeating : 

Take away that blood, take it away ! There is 
enough of it ; there is enough of it ! . . 

At sight of us an old woman, who sat beside the 
bed, arose, approached the sick man, and said to 
him aloud ; 

Here is the citizen-priest. . ..” 

At these words, the sick man’s face showed inex- 
pressible terror and grief. 

What use is it ?” cried he ; there is no mercy 
for me ! ” 

‘^My friend, the mercy of God makes no excep- 
tion,” answered Mr. Bluteau. 

But I — I ! who killed more than sixty priests at 
the Carmes.” 

Well, my son,” answered my benefactor, thank 
God, who has saved one to absolve you ! ”* 

I do not know what effect these words produced 
on the unhappy man ; he softened, and tears gush- 
ed from his eyes ; he allowed Mr. Bluteau to take 


* Historical. 


The Old Chest. 169 

him by the hand ; and we went into an adjoining 
room. In the evening he said to me : 

That unhappy man died in peace ! let us bless 
the Lord ! lie thought for a moment, and re- 
sumed : 

‘"The same hand which has 'just absolved that 
murderer absolved the Queen Mane Antoinette ; 
the same hand has broken for the assassin of Sep- 
tember and for tho daughter of the Oæsars the sacred 
bread of the Eucharist ; . . . O eternal Mercy ! 

how ineffable are thy decrees.” 

I was still a child, but the name of Marie Antoi- 
nette, which I had so often heard repeated, awoke 
my curiosity. 

You have seen the Queen, father ? ” said I. 

Yes, my child,” answered he ; ^^and, although 
you are only a child, I will relate it to you, so that 
one day, when I shall bo dead, you can give testi- 
mony to the Christian sentiments which animated 
that much calumniated Queen. Remember wliat 
I am goingto tell you, mydear child. The Queen was 
about to be tried, and the issue of her trial was very 
doubtful ; no one was admitted to see her ; she was 
suffering alone in the depth of her prison, when 
three holy ladies. Sister Jeanne, Sister Julia, 
Daughters of Charity, and Miss Fouchcr, the com- 
panion of their good works, obtained from the wife 
of the turnkey access to her cell. The Queen only 
asked them for one thing — a priest. 

Miss Fouclier came to seek me, and asked me if 
I would risk my life to bring to Marie Antoinette 
the aids of religion. I accepted with pleasure that 
sacred duty, and I Avas introduced into the presence 
of the royal captive. She made her confession ; I 


70 


The Old Chest, 


gave lier communion with the Sacred Host which I 
had brought in my watch ; I saw, my dear child, 
tears of joy roll down the pale, emaciated cheeks of 
the poor Queen, the poor widow, the poor mother. 
. . . The eve of the day on which she was led 

to the ccalfold, thanks to the good Miss Eoucher, I 
was enabled to celebrate Holy Mass in the Queen’s 
apartment; she again received communion, and 
was fortified, by the reception of the Most Holy 
Victim, against the teiTors of death. . . . This, 
my son, is a recollection which is my glory and con- 
solation ; remember- what I have said, so that, if 
one day Mane Antoinette is blamed in your jire- 
scnce, you can defend her, and attest that she died 
with as much courage as faith, with as much piety 
as meekness. . . 

My benefactor could say no more ; tears choked 
his speech, and the recollection of the Queen always 
made them flow abundantly. I have written this 
short account, as being one of the things that most 
struck me in the course of my life. ... I have 
hut little to relate of myself ; I have lived obscure 
and alone ; I have lived more in the life of others 
than in my own, and the thoughts, the words \yhich 
impressed me in my childhood come back again in 
my old age, and keep me company in my solitude. 

I had reached my thirteenth year, when I had 
the misfortune of losing my benefactor, my second 
father. He died almost suddenly, after a day of 
excessive fatigue. A severe attack of pneumonia 

* It is well Idown tliat the Queen received Commimion 
several times in her prison, from the hands of Mr. Maguire, pas- 
tor of Saint-Germain-rAuxerrois. Except the name of Mr. 
Bluteau, everything in our story is historic. 


The Old Chest. 


171 


curried him off in a few hours. Before lie died, he 
made me approach, and showed me a little box that 
was under the bed, and said to me : 

dear child, that box with what it contains 
is yours ; may the Lord preserve you, my dear 
son !... Eemember him, and he will remem- 
ber you. . . . Farewell, Pierre.” . . '. 

My dear father died a quarter of an hour after he 
had spoken to me ; he died calm and joyous, as if 
he had a glimpse of heaven. I remained alone. . . . 
I have sometimes seen young trees rooted up by the 
storm, and cast without support on the ground, 
and I have thought that their fate resembled 
mine. ... 

My benefactor was buried without pomp and 
without prayer. The remains of this just man, of 
this holy and virtuous priest, were thrown into a 
corner of the cemetery of Sainte-Marguerite, where 
also rests the body of the little Dauphin, who re- 
cently died in the Temple. I followed the hearse 
alone, and I returned alone to the deserted room, 
-of which the proprietor allowed me possession for a 
week. There I tried to recollect myself, and to 
think of what I should do ; I scarcely knew what my 
origin was ; my benefactor had only told me that 
my ]3arents had died during the Eevolution, and 
that I had neither friends nor fortune. ... I 
knew nothing more. I took the box which Mr. 
Bluteau had shown me ; I found in it a large roll 
of parchments and papers which seemed very old, 
and the writing of which I could not read, a little 
jewel-case containing a wedding-ring, and a folded 
paper, on which were these words, ‘‘For Pierre 
Duchaisne,” written in my benefactor’s hand : 


The Old Chest. 


i;2 

These, my dear child, are all the particulars 
which I can give you regarding your family. I 
liave known it for a long time ; it was to your 
grand-uncle, Antoine Duchaisne, the notary, tliat 1 
owed the benefits of education. He had seen me 
when only a child, and finding in me some inclina- 
tion for study, he defrayed the expenses of my in- 
struction, and to him I ov/e the happiness of being 
admitted to the priesthood. 1 knew his brotiier, 
the farmer-general, your grandfather, who, in con- 
sequence of family misfortunes, died overcome by 
infirmities of mind and body. You are his grand- 
son, the son of Edmund Duchaisne and Leonide 
Villedieu. Your poor father was imbued with the 
philosophical ideas ; but God permitted that a 
Oliristian wife should open his eyes, and that mis- 
fortune should finish the purification of his soul. 
The Revolution stripped him of his wealth ; his 
former connection with the unfortunate Duke 
d’Orleans caused him to be suspected ; he was 
arrested, brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal 
and condemned to death. One of my worthy 
brethren, who was in the same prison as your 
father, but who survived him, assured me that he 
prepared himself for death by the most Christian 
sentiment. 

Your excellent mother, whom I attended in her 
last moments, died the death of the Just. Your 
aunt, Madame the Baroness de Pons, died in prison, 
and, doubtless, the mercy of God visited her in her 
last hours. 

^‘The two daughters of your grand-uncle, An- 
toine, were married in the provinces. One of them 
died without leaving any children, the other enii- 


The Old Chest. 


73 


grated to Spain, and I have found it impossible to 
get any tidings of her. You are, therefore, my 
dear child, alone on the earth ; but God is your 
father and protector, and I venture to hope that the 
Divine Goodness will permit me to see you grow up 
to man’s estate. ... If not, my child, trust in 
Providence, and do not be ashamed to work. . . . 
Man is born to labor, as the bird to fly. . . . 

Serve God in whatever position you may be ; serve 
your country, love your brethren, and do as much 
good as you can. 

place in this box with this paper a roll of 
parchment, saved by your mother when they were 
about to put the seals on her effects, the certificate 
of your birth, and your mother’s wedding-ring, 
which was the only piece of jewelry she possessed 
when dying. Whatever becomes of us, my dear 
son, remember your adopted father, and pray to 
God for him. 

Xavier Bluteau. 

Paris, the 24th of February of the year 1799.” 

I read this paper weeping ; then I began to pray 
to God and to reflect. I saw very w'ell that I had 
no help to expect from any one ; no one was inte- 
rested in me; the institutions of charity, so nu- 
merous now, either existed no longer or had not 
yet arisen from their ruins. 1 might perhaps have 
solicited the charity of some of those to whom Mr. 
Bluteau had rendered services, and whose names I 
knew, but I did not venture to seek them, and 
finding myself tall and strong, I thought I could 
earn a living for myself. I had no great choice ; 
and following the natural bent of the times in which 


î74 


The Old Chest. 


I lived, I went to the nearest barrack and enlisted 
as a lifer. I concealed my papers in my clothes, I 
bung my mother’s ring and Mr. Bluteau’s little sil- 
ver cross around my neck, and, after having bid 
farewell to the last resting-place of my dear bene- 
factor, I set out for the regiment to which I was 
assigned. 

It was thus I became a soldier. I did my duty, 
but, although I was neither more cowardly nor more 
stupid than another, I did not rise from the obscure 
ranks of the army, and thus I made all the cam- 
paigns of the consulate and of the empire, under- 
going many fatigues, braving many dangers, for a 
work which we thought then would be immortal. 
I had many happy years, and, although I was con- 
founded with the crowd, I felt the ardor of battle 
as well as the commander-in-chief or the marshal 
whose voice rang through our squadrons. I was 
young ; the wandering and exciting life of camps 
pleased me, and I faced death without fear when it 
came in the shadow of the flag. I will not relate 
anything of our wars ... to what purpose 
would it be ? They are written in the memory of 
every one. I will not say that I was brave — where 
is the use ? All were brave. I will not complain 
of having been forgotten — why should I ? Others 
more worthy than I have' remained forgotten in the 
crowd. One service alone deserved some reward, 
but in the midst of public disasters it was natural 
that this service should remain without glory or 
honor. 

It was during the fatal retreat of 1812. The army 
was marching to the Berezina, and neither the em- 
peror nor his generals knew where to cross the river. 


The Old Chest. 


175 


It was decided to throw out a bridge which would 
permit the passage to he made. I was serving in a 
company of pontoon-men. General Eble, our com- 
mander, amidst the greatest misfortunes, in the 
disorder in which the army had been since the 
evacuation of Moscow, had succeeded in saving his 
travelling-forges, tools, coal, and had even made us 
forge cramp-irons from the wheels of deserted car- 
riages. This wise precaution was the salvation of 
the army. We descended the heights which over- 
look the Berezina ; we saw before us the river, 
whose troubled waves were covered with drifting 
snow-flakes ; this was the field of battle where we 
must either conquer or die, for the safety of our 
comrades-in-arms and our emperor.. 

During the night of the 25th and 26th of ISTovem- 
ber I went down with my companions into the bed 
of the river. I planted the first stake in the mud 
where our feet could not rest securely. The force 
of the waves had washed away the ford ; plunging 
into the water up to the mouth, benumbed with 
cold, blinded by the snow-flakes which a fierce wind 
was blowing in our faces, it required a superhuman 
effort for us to continue our work. There was 
neither moon nor stars in the sky ; we had light 
only from the enemy’s camp-fires ; one of my com- 
rades died from cold beside me, two others were 
carried away by the blocks of ice ; but we had no 
time to mourn the dead. . . . 

When day broke the trestles of the bridge were 
half placed, and, by a miracle of Providence, the 
Russian army fell back. Napoleon’s star was still 
shining on that day. 

For two days v/e continued our work, without 


176 


The Old Chest. 


tiiking any rest ; the Emperor sent us words of en- 
couragement. General Eble was in the water like 
ourselves : he ^consoled us, he promised us each a 
pension of a thousand francs and the Cross of the 
Legion of Honor. ... I know not if my com- 
j)anions thought as I did, but it seomed to me 
that neither money, nor even the star which 
shines on the breast of our kings, could recompense 
our efforts nor repay our sufferings. ... It 
required something more : there is a God above us. 

. . . Often, during those terrible hours, I pressed 

to my breast my benefactor’s cross. . . . The 

Cross on which the Son of God died for men en- 
couraged me still more than the Cross of the 
Legion of Honor. 

At last, on the 28th of November, the two bridges 
were finished, and the army, crowding on the river 
banks, began to cross with indescribable tumult and 
disorder. Three times the bridge made of carriages 
broke, three times we mended it ; buj; finding our- 
selves again together at work, and counting each 
other, we Avere struck Avith pity and with terror. 
Out of forty-two pontoon-men Avho had gone into 
the Avater to lay the bridge, twenty-eight had given 
Avay to the cold, or had been carried aAvay by the 
floating ice. There were fourteen of us like ghosts ; 
but our hearts remained whole* The army passed ; 
after it came a tumultuous croAvd of stragglers, aaEo, 
having been dispersed in the neighboring Avoods and 
surrounding villages, at sound of the departing 
army rushed thither all at once. Their immense 
and confused mass filled to overfloAving the narroAv 
entrance to the bridges. Crushed, trodden under 
foot, throAvn into the water, these unfortunate 


TJie Old Chest. 


77 


people uttered cries of agony ; and tlie disorder l)e- 
camo still greater when the Emperor came in liis 
turn to cross the bridge. Force had to be used to 
clear a way for him ; surrounded by the Grenadiers 
of the Guard, he passed before me over that bridge 
which my companions had sealed with their blood, 
and bearing with him, as we thought, the hope and 
the salvation of France. 

Minutes became more precious than hours. The 
Kussian cannons were heard from the heights. 
Marshal Victor, with six thousand men, was de- 
fending alone, on the banks of that cursed river, 
the great retreating army, which in its despair 
and anguish was like to that multitude which will 
one day fill the Valley of Judgment. Fifty thou- 
sand stragglers, sick or wounded, an immense 
mass of luggage, still more embarrassed the march. 
For more than two days the cold and misery were 
such that the vanguard had lost a third of its num- 
ber, most of them young. The bullets, falling in 
the midst of this confusion, drove these unfortu- 
nates to the last depths of despair. The strongest 
and most solid men passed on ; some, with sword 
in hand, opened for themselves a passage ; others 
attempted to scale the sides of the bridge, and fell 
into the water, which carried them off. . . . 

The artillery bridge, being overcrowded, gave way 
and brohe ; the live column which was on this narrow 
passage attempted to go back. They could not, 
and, pushed by the crowd from behind, ib fell into 
the gulf, where those who followed them were i:>re- 
cipitated in their turn. 

A single bridge remained ; it was besieged. . . . 
Oh ! what hours. A furious storm arose and over- 


1/8 


The Old Chest. 


took that mass of men, who were descending the 
heights to rush toward the only path of safety. The 
noise of the cannon mingled with, the howling of 
the tempest, and at times arose a sound formed of 
many voices, a chorus of lamentation and hlas- 
I)hemy, which was heard above the tumult of the 
storm. The more fortunate gained the bridge, but 
by passing over heaps of wounded, of half-stifled 
women and children. The stronger overthrew the 
weaker, who fell into the water, v/ithout any one 
turning their heads to look after them, or even con- 
ceiving the thought of pitying them. Every one 
thought only of himself ; every one wished only to 
live, and see France once more. Towards nine 
o’clock in the evening the distress increased ; Vic- 
tor’s battalions began their march, and opened a 
bloody breach through the midst of the unfortu- 
nates, whom they had hitherto defended. They 
crossed the bridge, overthrowing all that opposed 
their i^assage. A numerous rear-guard still re- 
mained on the bank, with their baggage and car- 
riages, and not having chosen to profit by that last 
night of safety. Day brought them all at once be- 
fore the bridge. . . . My companions and I had 

just crossed it ; the Eussians were about to avail ' 
themselves of it to pursue us. Then General Eblo 
made us light torches of straw Avhich he had pre- 
pared, and by his orders we set fire to the bridge. 
It was rapidly consumed, and the smoking remains 
of it fell into the river just when the Eussians were 
descending the heights and making ready to cross 
it. Several thousand stragglers remained aban- 
doned on the hostile shore. Wo saw them wander- 
ing on the banks of the Bérésina, holding out their 


The Old Chest. 


179 


hands to ns. Somo threw themselyes into the 
water, others trusted tliemselves on icebergs ; 
others again, crazed with despair, rushed headlong 
into the flames. The rest remained in the hands 
of the Eussians. 

I have seen many battles, but never anything so 
frightful as that last night. Full of distress at the 
recollection of my comrades, my brothers, who died 
at my side, I could scarcely thank Providence, who 
had saved me. I dragged myself along, sick and 
with feet half frozen, vdth what had once been my 
battalion, till we came to Wilna, where General 
Eble made me enter a hospital, renewing all the 
promises which he had made to us in the Empe- 
roPs name.. I had become insensible to everything ; 
cold, hunger, misery, alone made themselves felt, 
and I thought myself at the end of all my woes 
when I found myself on a bed of straw, having for 
nourishment a little bread soaked in water. The 
departure, or rather the flight, of the army did not 
concern me ; I, however, remained a prisoner in the 
hands of the Eussians, but I had become indiffer- 
ent to the future, and anxious only about llie 
present moment and present wants. . . . For 

three years I remained at Wilna, sick, and a pri- 
soner ; at the end of that time I was sent heme, and 
I begged my way to the frontiers of France. This 
was a great Joy to me, and I thought I would die 
when I knelt to kiss the ground of my dear 
country. 

All was changed : the Emperor sailing away over 
the Atlantic Ocean ; the marshals, generals, the 
men of the Empire, were nothing now. I knew not 
to whom to address myself to obtain, if not the 


i8o 


The Old Chest. 


promised pension, at least some aid which might 
assist me to get cured, and to wait for better days. 
General Eblc was dead ; and, although in the 
ofiice of the Minister of War I met, every day, men 
whose lives the poor pontoon-men had saved, I v/as 
always repulsed, and I received neither back-pay, 
nor travelling expenses, nor pension, nor crosses of 
honor. There yet remained to me a little money, 
which I had once entrusted to an honest man 
among my friends. He returned it to me. I came 

into a suburb of the town of ; I rented a little 

house and a small jhece of kind ; I bought some 
old furniture and some tools, and I became a 
gardener. The first years were hard and miserable, 
bu tl consoled myself by remembering my suffer- 
ings in Eussia. I became accustomed to my trade, 
and I succeeded in gardening quite easily. . . . 

I remained alone. ... If I am to believe 
some accounts in the old papers which my mother 
saved, I am descended from an ancient family, 
which has in its time been rich and held honorable 
offices. In me it has come back to the people ; and 
it will end with me. 

Poor, infirm, obscure, I will associate no one with 
my lot. I do not complain, but I remember that 
at the Berezina I gave to those who have repulsed 
mo the gift of my life. . . . God preserved it ; 

and, although it be but a poor offering, it shall 
henceforth belong to him alone. Eetired in my 
little house, poor but peaceful, I say to myself witii 
joy that I have no more concern with men, and 
that I depend on God alone. 


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